


Circumspect

by heartof_paper, sarahenany



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Definitely a beating, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Ending, Hiccup supports Snotlout, M/M, Only Fishlegs knows, Race To The Edge, Self-Harm, Snotlout and Hookfang bonding, Snotlout can't decide between Thor Bonecrusher and Fishlegs, Snotlout has anxiety, Trigger induced flashback, fishlout, minor PTSD, snotlegs, there might be a beating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-03-10 01:29:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13493968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartof_paper/pseuds/heartof_paper, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahenany/pseuds/sarahenany
Summary: Snotlout was always wary of risks that needed to be taken. So now he forever regrets the time he didn't hesitate to confess his love to his friend. This happened to cause distress to both vikings, especially when Snotlout wasn't certain why he loved him or who he liked. Thor Bonecrusher? Or his friend Fishlegs?





	1. The Talk

**Author's Note:**

> I owe everything to Sarah for helping me shine up this work. She gave it time that she didn't have to give, but wanted to. She is an amazing part of this fandom. Without her, this would still be its rusty ol' self. Please, check out her work, it's amazing and she deserves it <3

Circumspect and reserved every man should be, and wary in trusting friends. 

Of the words that a man says to another he often pays the penalty.

...

It was another perfect morning on Dragon's Edge. At least on the surface. It seemed Snotlout didn’t get the memo that it was a ‘happy and peaceful’ time.

In a large area of grass, surrounded by trees, Snotlout was lying face down, almost hanging over the cliff’s edge. Not too far in the distance, Hookfang landed on the flat surface in the center of the clearing. He walked over to his rider. With sudden abruptness, Snotlout pushed himself off the ground. Hookfang reared back in surprise.

“One more time.”

Snotlout’s voice held the determination that his face did not. And Hookfang knew it wasn’t a good time to train if Snotlout’s mood was anything to go by. Training distracted could get you killed, and Hookfang could tell that Snotlout wasn’t feeling like himself. Hookfang wasn’t bonded or anything like that sentimental Night Fury and his shameless human, but one didn’t work with someone for years without picking up on their moods. And Hookfang knew for certain that Snotlout was hiding something, some sort of emotion, suppressing his feelings, whatever they might be. And no way in Hel he was going to let his rider put them both in danger just because his thoughts were clouding his judgement.

As Snotlout approached, Hookfang raised his head and wings, keeping Snotlout from mounting up. Of course, Snotlout, being Snotlout, wouldn’t just go along like any sensible person. 

“Hookfang! You seriously doing this now?” Snotlout’s tone had a bite to it, but nothing unfriendly. Still, he sounded tired and distracted. He was clearly in no state of mind to be practicing such a complicated maneuver.

Hookfang moved his head away as Snotlout tried to jump up and grip his saddle. The attempt was fruitless, and Snotlout knew that. Hookfang tilted his head, meeting his rider’s eyes and trying very hard to make Snotlout understand.

Snotlout sighed, letting his arms drop to his sides. “I know you’re the world’s most stubborn dragon, you’re my dragon after all, but you can’t just stop me from riding. I swear to Odin you will let me mount you and we are going to get this right. Now lower your stupid head!” Hookfang flamed up, stepping back. Snotlout’s eyes widened and he took a step forward. “You know we’re going to show off what new tricks we learned next week. You want Astrid and Stormfly to beat us?”

Hookfang rolled his eyes, his head tilting with it to emphasize the movement. He lowered his head to let Snotlout mount him, still wary.

They took off into the air, gaining altitude before turning back around to fly next to the edge of the cliff. As they edged closer, Snotlout used Hookfang’s horns for stability as he pushed himself to his feet. They were steady. He stepped carefully onto Hookfang’s wing, slowly inching to the tip as they approached the edge of their training ground. Arms held outwards for balance he prepared himself to step off. He only had a few seconds to step onto the cliff edge: Hookfang couldn’t glide forever, and as soon as he flapped his wings, Snotlout would either be tossed into the air, or, more likely, slip off and plummet. He had to take the step, and he had to take it now. He had to do it! Now! Why couldn’t he just do it? It wasn’t hard to do it! Even Fishlegs could take a step at the right time--  
And he moved the wrong foot, missing the edge and stepping on air.

“Ah, yak piss,” Snotlout breathed as he started to fall. It didn’t even occur to him that he could die in the short moment he was falling, mind still preoccupied.

Roaring in alarm, Hookfang dived after Snotlout and gripped his rider’s belt in his teeth. He flew up to the edge and threw Snotlout onto the grass, careless with his anger, and landed in the shadow of the trees, watching in distress as Snotlout rolled upon being thrown. Snotlout pushed himself too far when he was obviously not thinking straight.

He watched as Snotlout pushed himself to his knees and snapped his head in his direction. “What is going on with you?!” Snotlout yelled as he stood up and started his way over to Hookfang. Before he even took a few steps, Hookfang jumped to another side of their training field. “Don’t do this to me. I know you secretly enjoyed watching me fall to my death,” Snotlout picked up his pace as he followed after Hookfang, who kept jumping all over the place to avoid him. Hookfang shot a glare at Snotlout.

“Hookfang, this is getting ridiculous! Why won’t you let me train?” Snotlout stopped running as Hookfang flew into the air just before he could reach him. The Monstrous Nightmare stayed in the air where there was no way of Snotlout reaching him. He watched his rider turn around to look up at him as he stayed in place.

“We’ve only just started practicing this move, we’re bound to have a few accidents. You can’t get angry at me for something that’s out of my hands!” Snotlout threw his arms above his head in exasperation. The beats of Hookfang’s wings became fiercer with his rising anger at his rider’s obliviousness. “What is with you?”

For answer, Hookfang glared at Snotlout. Then he lit himself on fire to show how he felt, and met Snotlout’s eyes, trying to communicate his thoughts.

Snotlout hung his head and heaved a sigh. Seeing that Snotlout seemed to have got the message, Hookfang doused the fire that coated his body and fixed his gaze on Snotlout.

“I guess,” Snotlout began, “I do have a lot on my mind.” He took a deep breath. “And it’s all this one stupid muttonhead’s fault!” he yelled, throwing his arms in the air. He crossed his legs and sat down, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned his cheek against his closed fist.

Hookfang landed on the ground behind Snotlout, legs tucked close to his body and head resting on the ground. It was his way of saying he was there, and he was listening. Snotlout scooted so his back rested against his dragon, taking on a relaxed position, ready to vent his feelings. 

“It’s just so stupid. I mean, where did it even come from? I just wanted a cool warrior Viking best friend, but instead I got an incredibly annoying crush on a person who doesn’t even exist.”

Hookfang raised his head, as if he had just realised who Snotlout was talking about. He looked at Snotlout curiously. “What are you looking at?” Snotlout snapped, feeling exposed and embarrassed to share these thoughts, even if it was with his dragon. 

Hookfang rolled his eyes, then curled his body around and rested his head on the lap of his rider. He didn’t do it often, but he felt it might get Snotlout to open up just a little bit more. Snotlout tensed up, but soon relaxed and placed his hand on Hookfang’s head, stroking it. 

He sighed, “He does exist, but it’s not him. It’s not who I fell in love with. It’s just his--his outside. His face? His body? And I miss him. But I know he’s never coming back. And now I have to see Fishlegs every day and it reminds me of him and it’s just.. it’s… so goddamn stupid! Like just give up already. He’s not coming back so, just, give up.” 

Hookfang felt the movement of Snotlout’s hand stop. He tilted his head to look at Snotlout’s face. He couldn’t read it, but he knew there was more to be said. He caught Snotlout’s gaze and nodded, encouraged him to continue.

Snotlout smiled the smallest of smiles and continued to pet his dragon’s head and neck. “Guess what, Fangster? It’s Thor Bonecrusher. That’s who I’m hung up over, and it feels so girly but I can’t get rid of the feeling. I’ve tried so hard to get him back. Like when I was training him to face the Quaken, I thought maybe if I pushed him enough Thor would come back. But nothing works. Insulting him, training him. There is just no sign of TB coming back. So do why I get this tingly feeling when Fishlegs is around? It’s gotta be because he looks like TB, right? Because what else would it be?”

Hookfang tilted his head again to glare at Snotlout, getting more and more frustrated at Snotlout for his obliviousness. Snotlout scoffed, “What do you know. It’s not like you understand.” In response, Hookfang smacked Snotlout in the head with one of his horns, to say that yes, he did understand. Snotlout only glared, unusually quiet after getting knocked in the head. He stood up and took a few steps. Shoulders slumped, he said quietly, “I don’t know what to do. Ignoring it doesn’t work.”

He looked in the direction of where he believed Fishlegs’ hut was. A new resolve filled his gut. He decided rejection couldn’t be any worse than what he was feeling, wallowing in his crush. He turned his head to face Hookfang, a confident smile on his face. “I’m going to deal with this.”

He only took a few steps before fear filled his body. “On second thought--”

Fire struck the ground beside his feet, making him jump. He turned to face Hookfang angrily to see he was right behind him. “Fine, fine,” he began before mounting Hookfang, “let’s get this over with.”

...

High up in Fishlegs' room, an investigation was in progress. Bursts of flame in different colours of the spectrum radiated from the Dragon Eye, casting a kaleidoscope of light onto the floor of his hut. Meatlug and Fishlegs were staring in awe at the diagram projected on the wall of his room. “This is a treasure map, girl! Not pirate treasure, I mean it shows that the ancestral ground for Gronckles actually exists and how to find it. Do you know what this means? We can discover things we never even knew about Gronckles, or even more Boulder Class dragons! I couldn’t have done this without you, girl.” Meatlug tackled Fishlegs in a hug, both sharing the same amount of excitement. He stood up off the ground, dusting himself off and petting Meatlug’s head. 

"Hey Fishface!"

Fishlegs jumped, startled at the abrupt interruption. 

“What’cha doing?” 

Fishlegs sighed and turned to face Snotlout, standing in the entry of his hut. “Do you even care?” He asked, fists clenched by his sides. 

Snotlout crossed his arms over his chest, looking to the side, a crinkle between his brows. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care,” he shouted, but Fishlegs noticed it seemed heavy, like he was trying to hide a shake in his voice.  
Fishlegs breathed deeply, "Well, Meatlug and I just discovered that there might be more Boulder Class dragons that we have yet to discover. And the location of--”

Snotlout’s eyes glazed over before he shook his head and took a step forward, interrupting Fishlegs. "Oh wow, y'know, I just remembered you're boring and I don't care." Snotlout turned and walked off, leaving Fishlegs staring at the place where he used to be. 

Fishlegs stood there, frowning, while he rubbed his right upper arm with his left hand. Ever since the incident with Thor Bonecrusher he hasn't felt quite the same around Snotlout, and surprisingly, his words hit Fishlegs harder than they used to. Sensing Fishlegs' distress, Meatlug walked over to him and rubbed affectionately against his leg. It didn’t completely lift his spirits, but it still brought a small smile to his face. He petted Meatlug's head and whispered, "Come on, girl, let's get back to the Dragon Eye.”

...

"Ahh, I’m such a muttonhead!" Snotlout groaned, smacking himself in the forehead as he walked into his hut. As if the face-slap wasn't enough, he went and butted his head against a wall before deciding that was enough sense-knocking and sat down on his bed. A heavy sigh escaped him as his shoulders slumped. "Why do I keep doing this?" he whispered to himself before reaching into his bedside table drawer to pick up his self drawn portrait of Thor Bonecrusher.

"Why you? I've seen so many brave and ferocious vikings. What makes you so different?" Snotlout gripped at the sheets in self-hatred at his own stupidity. He’d gone up there to understand his feelings. Determine who he had feelings for. He thought having a friendly conversation with Fishlegs would put him at ease, but since when had he been able to talk to Fishlegs without his old obnoxious habits ruining it? It only made him more confused, and the ache in his chest only became stronger. He just wanted to sleep and cry, but that went against everything he was taught growing up. Emotions don’t control you, and emotions make you weak. A man doesn’t cry. A Jorgenson doesn’t cry.

There was a knock on the door. He looked up to find Hiccup standing at his door with Hookfang behind him.

"Hey, Snotlout. Uh, is everything okay? You and Hookfang should be getting ready for nightwatch," Hiccup asked with concern. He petted Hookfang’s head as a signal to enter and waited for the Monstrous Nightmare to walk in before he took a few steps in himself. Snotlout looked at Hookfang apologetically. I didn’t deal with it.

Snotlout exhaled and looked back down at his drawing. "Thanks, Hiccup. I just, need to figure some things out." 

Snotlout looked up when he heard steps heading his way. "Wow. Something really must be wrong for you to thank me like that." Hiccup gently smiled down at Snotlout before sitting down beside him on his bed. 

A shaky sigh escaped Snotlout's lips. “My dad would kill me.”  
Hiccup frowned. “What? Why?”  
Snotlout looked down at the floor. “All my life he’s been talking about carrying on the Jorgenson bloodline, having an heir. It was just, there was no question about it. Have a wife, have a family. Figures I’d mess that up as well. I mean, I disappointed him with everything else.”  
“You didn’t disappoint him!” Hiccup burst out. Hookfang joined in, rumbling.  
Snotlout shook his head, still looking at his boots. “It was just a given. Meet a nice girl, fall in love.” He grimaced wryly. “Hey, I did half of that. That counts, huh?”  
“Wait a minute.” Hiccup blinked, looking hard at Snotlout. “Are you trying to tell me that you, uh, that you’re in love with someone?”  
“Yeah,” Snotlout sighed in self-disgust. “Only it’s not someone I could start a family with. And you know what’s worse? I wouldn’t care if I could spend the rest of my life with him. It’s stupid, but he would make it okay." He looked away to avoid Hiccup's eyes, guessing they would hold disgust. 

Hiccup’s eyes widened in surprise at Snotlout's obvious confession. He looked down at what was in Snotlout's hands. "Is that... Fishlegs?" Hiccup asked. Surprised, he slowly raised his eyes from the drawing to look Snotlout in the face. 

Snotlout rubbed his arms hoping it would calm him down, trying to distract himself. "It's actually Thor Bonecrusher. I drew it after Fishlegs broke out of the hypnosis. But now, when I look at it, all I see is Fishlegs," Snotlout replied hesitantly. 

"You know," Hiccup started gently, capturing Snotlout's attention before continuing, "Thor is Fishlegs. It's just another part of him that's hidden deep down."

Snotlout whipped his head around to find a smiling Hiccup looking at him. His breath caught in his throat in surprise at Hiccup's kindness. "Just what I don't get is that you don't exactly act nice towards Fishlegs."

Snotlout placed his drawing beside him and massaged his fingers, squeezing and stretching them as he came up with his answer. "I don’t know how I feel. But I actually can't help it, it just happens. I think... I think I'm trying to get Fishlegs' attention..."

Hiccup nodded in understanding and stood up. He paced a few steps, back and forth. "Have you actually thought that maybe it isn't Thor you're interested in, but Fishlegs?" 

Snotlout averted his eyes. "I’ve considered it," he whispered. 

"See!" Hiccup exclaimed excitedly. "You know deep down that you didn't actually fall in love with Thor Bonecrusher, you were amazed at what Fishlegs could become and fell in love with Fishlegs himself, not his alter-ego. You were impressed."

"B-but I never thought I could actually like Fishlegs. Oh Thor, I've screwed it all up!" Snotlout yelled out as he buried his face in his hands, speaking through his fingers. "I have been hanging around Fishlegs a lot lately, but I thought it was because I wanted to try and get Bonecusher back. I kept screwing it up though. I… I couldn’t hide my feelings anymore, Hiccup. But I couldn’t let him know. So I called him boring. How stupid can I possibly be? I can’t open my mouth without insulting him, and I don’t even want to!"  
Hiccup sighed. He stopped in front of Snotlout and flicked his forehead to get Snotlout to look up at him. "Yes, you made a few mistakes, but nothing an apology can't fix. Fishlegs is a very forgiving person. Just try to be a bit nicer to him," Hiccup suggested, hands on his hips. 

Snotlout nodded. "You're right. Thanks Hiccup, I mean it." Snotlout smiled sincerely at Hiccup before walking towards his dragon. "Come on, Hookfang. Let's go." He and Hookfang flew off. Hiccup watched them go, smiling and standing a bit taller. Toothless butted him in the side and crooned approvingly.


	2. Elementary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The somewhat calm before the storm. It's really not that calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little fun tip for you all about the epigraphs I put at the start of the chapter. Norsemen (the preferred term over Vikings, the Anglo-Saxons called them Vikings and that's a stab to the gut) wrote poetry in their spare time. Pretty frickin adorable. So I thought it would be cool to put in some Norse proverbs that related to the chapter!

Moderately wise should each one be, but never over-wise;  
for a wise man's heart is seldom glad, if he is all-wise who owns it.

…

The sound of Hookfang's wings flapping echoed through the wind. Snotlout's ride was relaxing, at least until Ruffnut and Tuffnut's yells broke the silence.

Hookfang landed gracefully and lowered his neck. "Wow, what happened to you?" Tuffnut snickered, elbowing his sister in the arm. 

Ruffnut chuckled, "Yeah, you look terrible, and that's coming from us." 

Snotlout dismounted, turning away slightly. "Shut up! I've just got a lot on my mind.”  
"Oh? What is this? Is Snotlout actually..." Tuffnut gasped playfully. "Thinking?" 

Ruffnut burst into laughter as she fell to the ground and clutched her stomach, making a show of how funny it was. 

Snotlout folded his arms and turned to face them "Oh shut up! I didn't come here to be picked on by you two!" 

Tuffnut stopped laughing and suddenly appeared very serious. “Then who did you come here to be picked on by?” Snotlout suddenly felt exposed. As if Tuffnut could see his secret.

Snotlout looked over at Hookfang, who gave him an encouraging nod. His eyebrows furrowed as he rested his hands on his hips. "I came here to ask you if you knew where Fishlegs is?"

Tuffnut struck a deep thinking pose, hand on his forehead, other hand on his chin. “Did you look in his hut?” Ruffnut cut in.

“What kind of detective work is that?” Tuffnut looked askance at her. “Have you learned nothing from your association with the great consulting detective?”

Ruffnut bowed. “My apologies! Please continue! How do you know he looked in Fishlegs’ hut already?”

“Elementary, my dear Nut. If he had found Fishlegs in Fishlegs’ hut, he would already have located one Fishlegs Ingerman, thus rendering it unnecessary to come and consult with our consultancy.”

“Brilliant!” Ruffnut takes a step back. “Simply brilliant!”

“It is a simple process of deduction. If you would just observe…”

"If you would just shut up and tell me where he is!" Snotlout burst out.

"Gah, fine. He's in the forest collecting wood for our big campfire tonight.” Ruffnut replied, a bored expression on her face as she leaned her elbow on her brother's shoulder. “But you have no appreciation for the finer elements of detective work." 

Tuffnut stared at Ruffnut with awe. “However did you deduce that? Is it possible? Have my detective skills rubbed off on you?”

Ruffnut smirked. “Meatlug told Barf.”

Tuffnut rubbed his chin. “Elementary.” He looked straight at Snotlout. “Now all that remains is to deduce why, exactly, the Lout is searching for his arch-nemesis, the Fishy One.”

“Could it be? Is the Fishy One the reason for such a tremendous fail?” Ruffnut pointed her finger toward the sky and turned to her brother.

“It could be indeed. I applaud your deduction, my dear sister, for he may fail multiple times, but none as epic as that.”

“What are you talking about?” Snotlout would deny it, but his voice rose a pitch higher. He would never admit it, but he actually cared what the twins thought about him, and what they were saying could only mean they’d seen his failed attempts at trick riding the day before.

“We saw your fall at the cliff yesterday. It was A-MA-ZING. I could watch it over and over for hours, and hours, and hours…” Ruffnut’s eyes glazed over and she stared into space with a dreamy smile, lost in the memory of Snotlout’s slip, disconnecting from the world. 

Tuffnut filled in the silence. “As great a detective as I may be,” he walked over to Snotlout with a piercing stare, “we would like to hear from you the reason to why you failed so badly at your move yesterday?”

Snotlout felt his heart pound in his chest. “Everyone makes mistakes in practice!”

“Are you thinking about someone?” Tuffnut paced around Snotlout in a dramatic circle. “Did you fight with someone? Say the wrong thing?”

Snotlout flapped his hands. “Get lost! It’s nothing like that!”

“Okay. But I wouldn’t be surprised, you have a positive talent for getting on everyone’s bad side.”

“That’s epic too,” Ruffnut interjected helpfully.

“Uhh…” Snotlout slowly took a few steps backwards toward Hookfang. Shaking his head, he jumped into Hookfang’s saddle. “Okay, question time’s over, gotta go! Just one thing: what makes you think I wasn’t, uh, wasn’t concentrating yesterday?" Snotlout asked as Hookfang got ready to take off.

Tuffnut snorted. "Now that is elementary. We may be idiots, but we're not stupid." 

Ruffnut nodded her head in agreement, "Yeah, hehe. Wait..."

...

Snotlout shook his head as Hookfang took flight and started to circle, searching the forest from above. First he’d told Hiccup his secret, which was kind of okay, but now the twins might know as well. “This is getting out of control fast, Hooky,” he muttered. “I gotta find him and talk to him before everyone knows,” he palmed his face, “knows about something that didn’t even happen yet!”

Hookfang rumbled in understanding. Snotlout gripped his horns, feeling a little better at his dragon’s support. It only took him a few minutes to spot the Gronckle and her rider in the forest, blasting trees and stacking them neatly in a pile. He directed Hookfang to land next to Meatlug and she looked up, distracted from blasting another tree down. Fishlegs, too, looked up at the sound of Hookfang and Snotlout landing, then turned to face them, pencil and paper in hand. 

Snotlout looked at the huge pile of wood sitting on a net. "That is a lot of wood. How big is this fire going to be exactly?" Snotlout observed as he dismounted. 

Fishlegs walked over to Meatlug and placed the paper and pencil in the bag attached to her saddle, taking his time doing it. "What do you want, Snotlout?" Fishlegs asked, fussing with the buckle on Meatlug’s saddlebag.

Snotlout sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I want... to apologise.” Fishlegs glanced briefly up at him, then looked back down at Meatlug’s saddle. Snotlout went on, refusing to be discouraged. “I've said some things, done some stuff. And I,” he sighed, “I want to say I’m sorry for everything."

"I don’t know, Snotlout,” sighed Fishlegs. “The things you say really hurt." He jumped slightly when he felt Meatlug lean against him in an attempt at comfort. “Thanks, girl,” he said softly.

Snotlout stepped forward, serious. "I realise that, and that's why I've come to say... Sorry."

Snotlout held out his hand in an offer of a handshake. Meatlug growled at him, and Fishlegs didn’t take his extended hand. Instead, he looked at him with sad eyes. "It's not just the things you say, Snotlout, it's your actions. You come to my garden and you ask to learn about plants. You come to my hut and ask me to tell you what I’m doing. And it never fails - the minute I start talking, you call me names and walk away. How do I know you’re not gonna make fun of me again as soon as I shake your hand?”

Snotlout kept his hand held out. “I’m not!”

Fishlegs shook his head. “Sorry, Snotlout. I trust you in battle, but… I can’t trust you not to hurt my feelings.”

“So this is what I get for coming and apologizing?” Snotlout’s outstretched hand clenched into a fist. “Since when do you hold grudges?”

“Since…” Fishlegs’ face turned red and he looked away. Instead of answering, he bent down and tied up the net, concentrating on adjusting it so it allowed Meatlug to carry the wood easily. “Since the last time we were on Berk, I guess…”

Snotlout let his hand fall. His own face turned red as he realized what Fishlegs was referring to.

Fishlegs got on Meatlug, not looking at Snotlout at all. "I’m sorry, I appreciate the apology. Maybe try again later, when I've had some time to think, okay? Come on, Meatlug." He concentrated on the wood as they rose carefully into the air, then flew off without looking back at Snotlout once.

Snotlout stood there, staring after Fishlegs, feeling grateful that Hookfang knew better than to say anything. Eventually, he sighed and turned to Hookfang, patting his snout. Hookfang rumbled softly, as if to ask what Snotlout was thinking.

Snotlout shook his head before climbing onto Hookfang's saddle. "I don't even know what to think." He let out a short laugh. "That's probably why I don't think," he finished. Hookfang took off, and Snotlout went in search of Hiccup, hoping he would have a job for Snotlout to prevent his mind from straying to unwanted thoughts.

…

He didn’t manage to find Hiccup, however: there was a lot of work to do that day, as it became time for the big annual bonfire when the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. Like most traditions, it hadn’t started out as one: they’d just had a big bonfire the first time they’d been able to sleep in their newly-built huts. The twins had remembered the date a year later, and chided the rest of the Riders for “forgetting our ancient tradition.” And so it had become an annual thing, the flames safely contained in the twins’ boar pit. The dragons, of course, were invited, although it had taken a bit of explaining to make them understand why humans made such a big deal about fire.

The twins, Snotlout, and Fishlegs were seated as Astrid and Hiccup placed the last pieces of kindling in the ring of rocks. Hiccup signalled Toothless, who shot a plasma blast into the heart of the wood. It caught fire immediately and began to burn. “That was impressive,” Astrid complimented, and Toothless preened, puffing up his chest. Stormfly tilted her head. “I mean, impressive for someone,” Astrid whispered, “whose flame isn’t as hot as yours.” Mollified, Stormfly settled, roosting comfortably next to Astrid as she sat down. Hiccup seated himself between Astrid and Snotlout. 

"So," Hiccup caught Snotlout’s eye, “how did the apology go?"

Snotlout stared at Hiccup. While he appreciated the kind smile on Hiccup’s face, he couldn’t believe that he was bringing it up now, here, where Fishlegs could so easily overhear them. For someone who was going to be Chief someday, Hiccup’s skill at circumspection was limited, and that was putting it mildly. “Not now, Hiccup!” Snotlout whispered.

“I just…”

Fishlegs was looking over at them now. Snotlout tried to avoid his eye, hissing, “Can we talk about it later?”

But Hiccup barged on, oblivious. “I just want to know how it went! Did you try to apologize?”

Hiccup was interrupted by an abrupt shout from Fishlegs. "Wait!" Fishlegs stood up from the log he had been sitting on. "Hiccup, you told him to apologize?"

"Uhh..." Hiccup didn't know how to answer, offering an awkward laugh as he sat there. 

Fishlegs exhaled in disbelief and stomped over to his dragon. "I knew I shouldn't have believed Snotlout would come to me and apologize on his own."

Snotlout snorted. "You didn't even accept my apology!” he retorted. “I needed some help figuring out what to do and when Hiccup gave me good advice, I was man enough to take it! But you weren’t man enough to accept it! Are you gonna accept my apology or are you too chicken?" Fishlegs just stood there impassively. Frustrated, Snotlout stood up from his seat and yelled, "Or do we need to hypnotize you like last time and bring out a real man like Thor Bonecrusher!" 

The last thing he saw was the hurt on Fishlegs' face before he got on Meatlug and flew off without a word.

The whole group glared at Snotlout, even the dragons except for Hookfang, who draped a wing over his face, grimacing. As Snotlout calmed down, his shoulders slumped. "Oh no," he whispered, realizing Fishlegs hadn’t flown off in the direction of his hut, but into the darkest part of the forest - the part where the unexplored caves were. A chill went through him and he covered his eyes with his hand.

"Snotlout. Fishlegs is nothing like Bonecrusher. And telling him to be something he's not? That’s the worst thing you could say to him," said Hiccup from behind Snotlout. The clank of metal signalled that he had stood up.

"Yeah, that was harsh, even for you,” said Tuffnut.

“Awesome, and fun to watch,” Ruffnut added, “but harsh.”

Snotlout didn’t turn, staring in the direction Fishlegs had gone. Astrid stepped around him and punched him in the arm. “I never thought I’d agree with the twins,” she snapped. “Whatever’s going on with you, Snotlout, get yourself under control. Or I’m throwing you into the volcano.”

Hiccup stepped forward, holding up his hands. “We need to go find Fishlegs. It's not safe to be out there alone at night.”

“Yes,” said Astrid. “If we get moving right now, we can catch him before he gets too far into the forest."

“He’s not going to be in the forest,” Tuffnut volunteered, waving his arm in a dramatic flourish. “My deductions, which are infallible, state that he will be in the caves.”

Hiccup, Astrid and Snotlout all turned to him and stared. “What?” Snotlout whispered.

“When the Fishy One goes to think, which he does often, he generally tends to frequent,” Tuffnut waved a hand, “the caves in that part of the forest.”

“In the daytime,” Hiccup cut in. “He knows better than to go there at night!”

“Well… If I were one Fishlegs Ingerman, and I wanted to be alone with my thoughts, as it were… Coupled with the fact that he was last seen heading in the direction of said caves…”

“Your deductive brilliance is astounding,” Ruffnut chimed in. “Simply astounding.”

“Pish tosh, my dear Nut, it is merely elementary detective work.”

“Saddle up,” Astrid rapped out. “We’re going to look for him.”

“Just a thought,” said Ruffnut, “maybe we should give him a minute to calm down…”

“And by a minute,” Tuffnut added, dropping his detective persona and leaning back against his log with his drink, arm around his sister, “we mean three or four hours… Drama-free...”

“Amen, Brother-Nut!” Ruffnut clinked her drinking-horn against his. “Enough time to, you know, chill out, enjoy the bonfire…”

Astrid stepped towards the twins, picking up her axe. “You have until I count to three,” she began. “One…”

But Snotlout had already left them behind, climbing onto Hookfang’s neck. “Come on, Hooky,” he said, and they took off in the direction Fishlegs had gone.


	3. Myrkr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to myrkr (ehehehe)

But of him yet further, whom thou little trustest, and thou suspectest his affection;

before him thou shouldst laugh, and contrary to thy thoughts speak:

requital should the gift resemble.

...

Snotlout lay on his side, heaving quick, rasping breaths. He had fallen to the ground some time earlier, and now lay shaking, desperately trying to swallow enough air to fill his aching lungs. He’d given up telling himself to be a courageous Viking some time ago, around the time his mind had gone blank. He rocked back and forth, desperate to distract himself from his shrinking heart.

…

It had started out okay, still a little light as the sun hadn’t fully set yet. Hookfang and Snotlout stood outside the first cave they had spotted. Snotlout looked at Hookfang and they shared a nod before they entered the cave, Snotlout’s adrenaline shadowing the growing tingle in his chest. 

They ventured down the cave, the air getting colder the further they went in. Noticing that his rider was shivering, Hookfang flamed up, providing the warmth Snotlout needed, and light as it grew darker. 

It was then that things started to get worse, although Snotlout didn’t notice it at first. He was too busy being agitated to notice his surroundings. The cave was narrowing the further they went in, and it was becoming darker. 

“Fishface!” The call echoed through the rocky tunnels. “Stop being stupid and come out of this damn cave!” Snotlout stomped his foot. He watched his shadow flicker on the wall of the cave, contrasting against the orange glow of the flame. He turned to face Hookfang. Snotlout was glaring, and Hookfang glared back. Snotlout scoffed, “He just had to run away like a baby.” Snotlout shook his head and returned to walking straight ahead.

Hookfang felt himself flame higher. There was a fine line between being strong and being callous, and Snotlout had just crossed it. He bumped his head against his idiotic rider’s back. They stopped walking, and Snotlout turned back to face Hookfang. “I admit, I may have been a little harsh on him, but seriously, he needs to harden up and accept honesty.” Hookfang rumbled and shook his head. “Besides, I was righ- Don’t,” Snotlout put his hand up to Hookfang’s face, “no. Don’t give me that look- nope.” Hookfang tilted his head down, releasing a puff of smoke from his nostrils. Snotlout furrowed his brows and placed his hands on his hips. “Don’t you start with me, Hookfang. Now’s not the time!” 

He took a few paces forward, but Hookfang shook his head and whipped his tail around, deliberately putting it in Snotlout’s way. Snotlout snarled at his dragon’s stubbornness, anger slowly growing. He turned to face Hookfang and jabbed a finger at his snout. “Whose side are you on? You are MY dragon. I am your rider, and you listen to me! Now come on!” 

Snotlout turned away, motioning Hookfang to follow him. Instead, Hookfang scuttled round to face him, blocking his path completely. He could barely fit where Snotlout was going, but he crammed himself into the narrow space, flamed higher and roared.

“Get out of my way!” Snotlout roared right back. “Just--just shut up and mind your own business!” He waved an arm dismissively. “Get lost, Hookfang. What would you know about humans anyway? You’re just a dragon.”

That did it. Hookfang almost opened his mouth and chomped Snotlout as he had done when they were younger, but instead he slipped around his rider and slunk away with a huff. 

Snotlout watched Hookfang’s flame recede down the passageway, his anger keeping him warm. “Who needs you anyway,” he said weakly. He turned to continue his search, but stopped dead in his tracks. He whirled in the direction of his dragon’s flame. Where there had been a far-off flicker of light, now there was nothing. He opened and closed his eyes. Still nothing.

His anger drained away. He could feel the pounding of his heart, and bile burning his throat, threatening to come up. He blinked hard. Surely there was some light? His eyes were bound to get used to the dark, and then he’d be able to see… He turned again, losing his bearings. His heart was pounding up into his throat. He couldn’t breathe. If he could just find something to hold on to! In a panic, he held his hands out in front of him and broke into a stumbling run, groping for a firm surface. He quickened his run to a sprint, desperate to touch something to keep him grounded. He slammed into a rock wall, and scrabbled at it, cold overtaking him. His breathing became strained and shaky. “Hookfang!” he screamed.

Hookfang froze, hearing the desperation in Snotlout’s voice. This wasn’t arrogance. This was sheer terror. 

Hookfang ran back in, his flame flickering with guilt and fear. What was wrong? Had some predator attacked his rider? He shouldn’t have left him. 

“Hookfang!” Snotlout sounded like he was barely holding on. Hookfang followed the screams of his rider, but the cave became too narrow to go any further. He turned in circles, cramped in the small space, and threw himself at the narrow passage, sticking his head in and trying to get further. He couldn’t see Snotlout, but he could hear that he was was close. If only he could fit, he could get him out. He roared and flamed, slamming and blasting at the rocks, hoping to open up a passageway for himself. Snotlout never screamed like that! What was happening to him?

“Hookfang?!” Snotlout’s voice was tiring, hoarse from screaming. He fell to his knees, feeling every surface of the cave close in on him. There was no room to breathe, to move. He gripped his head with both hands and sank to his knees on the cold, hard ground. Tugging at his hair, he growled, fighting to push away the images in his head. He tried and tried to get them out, pounding his head on the rocky floor of the cave. 

Then the pounding started. Something was hitting the walls, shaking them around him. Snotlout was spiraling down and away, not realizing they were the reverberations of each impact Hookfang made against the cave walls in his efforts to get to him. He didn’t even register it was his dragon, frantic by now, trying to help.

“No,” Snotlout muttered, reaching for the cave wall right beside him. It was cold, rough: if he hit it hard enough it could really do some damage. He pressed a hand flat against it, feeling the uneven surface. Something seemed familiar about it.

And then it wasn’t craggy rock anymore, but rough wood. “Da, please.” 

His surroundings felt no different, still suffocating darkness, but his position had changed. No longer curled up the ground, he was cramped up vertically, hardly any room to breathe. “Da?” His voice was small, like that of a child.

Hookfang couldn’t hear what Snotlout was saying, but the tiny, vulnerable tone made Hookfang’s heart-fire flare up. Snotlout had never sounded like that before! What was wrong? He roared and butted the cave wall again.

“Let me out!” Snotlout cried, banging his small fists against the door. Jolts of pain went through his hands, the splintering wood piercing his skin. It was so dark and he couldn’t breathe! He couldn’t breathe…

Then there was no door, and his hands started flailing at the air. Filling his vision was Spitelout’s torso. His eyes travelled to his father’s face, noticing the furrow of his brows, the down-curve of his lips, the redness to his cheeks. Snotlout knew the future was going to be painful. 

Spitelout gripped his son’s collar and slammed him against the wall beside the weapons closet he had been locked in. Spitelout let go of Snotlout and tilted his head. “Do you know why I have to do this to you?” Spitelout asked. 

Snotlout shivered. “No.”

Spitelout walked over to the dining table in the center of the room. He returned to stand in front of Snotlout with an axe in his hand. “This is why.” He held out the weapon for Snotlout to see.

As Snotlout laid eyes on the weapon, he understood. It was his axe. The one he destroyed.

“It was an accident-”

A slap resounded in the room. Snotlout brought his hand up to clasp his throbbing cheek, tears threatening to spill.

“This,” Spitelout brought the axe right to Snotlout’s face, “was meant for you to train with, but you left it out in the rain!!” Spitelout threw the axe aside. “It’s no use at all now! A perfectly good axe - ruined! All because of your stupidity and carelessness!”

“I’m sorry. It was a mistake,” Snotlout stammered. His heart was racing out of his chest. He hadn’t seen his dad this angry very often. He tried so hard to be perfect to avoid this situation.

Spitelout took a few steps forward. “A Viking,” Spitelout started, tauntingly, “is only as good as his weapon.” He leaned close to Snotlout, their faces almost touching. “And yours,” he sneered, “is rusted through.” His voice rose. “What kind of a Viking are you?”

He reached out, but Snotlout ducked beneath his father’s towering bulk and rushed to the front door. His heart was in his throat and he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t go back into that closet, he couldn’t! He would give anything to hear his mother’s voice at that moment, but she wasn’t home. 

Before he could reach for the door, he was yanked back. He cried out, choking, at the belt that lassoed his neck like a bola. 

“This is for your own good,” his father said. He always said that. His da was right, of course he was always right, but he couldn’t go back in there! Snotlout clawed at the leather tight around his neck as his father dragged him back, desperate to relieve the pressure on his throat. But it was useless for a grown man to fight against his father’s strength, never mind a five-year-old.

The choking grip loosened and he gasped for air, but it was only a second of relief. Beefy hands gripped him by the shoulders and he was thrown back into the closet. He cried out as his calf impacted a knob on a mace. For a moment pain blotted everything out. The door slammed in his face, and he was plunged into darkness. 

The pitch-blackness closed in on him. He couldn’t get a breath. He pummelled the door with his fists, screaming. “Let me out! Let me out!”

“Snotlout, I have to teach you,” said Spitelout. “Everything will get better, I promise, when you learn to be a good boy.”

“I’ll be good!” Snotlout screamed. “I’ll do anything! Let me out!” His chest was cold and tight like iron. “Let me out! Please! I’m sorry!”

Spitelout smashed his fist against the door, making the whole closet vibrate. Snotlout stopped hitting the door and stood still, a tight band around his chest, his heart hammering in his ears. 

“Stop making a fuss about nothing. You need to learn to be more like me. Then you’ll be worthy of being a Jorgenson. All you have to do is be just like me.”

The world shifted beneath Snotlout’s feet. He screamed, and instead of it being muffled, it echoed back to him. He pounded on the door and screamed till his strength gave out, then fell onto his side, hand in his mouth. Why was the closet floor cold rock? Sharp weapons poked him in the side, feeling more like stones. The pain was good. It helped him breathe just a little bit better. He tried to make himself hurt as much as he could, in hopes of distracting himself from the pitch-dark pressing down on him, crushing him. The cold swallowed him up, and he slowly began to drift.

...

It had taken Fishlegs a few hours to clear his head. The moon was at its highest point as he flew back from the forest. He thought of going back to his hut, but decided to swing by the campfire first, to let the others know he was okay. As Meatlug headed towards the boar pit, Fishlegs noticed a shadow flitting across the moon, obscuring its light for a moment. A Nadder… “Stormfly?” What was Stormfly doing out flying at this time of night? “Astrid?” he called.

“I FOUND HIM!” Astrid yelled, and Stormfly let out a cry he recognized as one of their signals. Fishlegs looked around to see Hiccup and Toothless coming up behind him, the twins coming in from a greater distance on Barf and Belch. 

“I’m sorry!” he called, feeling terribly guilty. He’d thought his friends would be sitting comfortably around the campfire, awaiting his return, not ruining their evening by sending out a search party! And it was clear that Hiccup and Astrid had been worried by the way they were looking at Fishlegs and Meatlug, a relieved smile on both of their faces as they got closer.

“It’s okay, Fishlegs,” Hiccup called when he was within shouting distance, “but don’t run off like that again! You had us worried.” But the relieved smile on Hiccup's face faltered. He looked at the horizon, as if searching for something. Astrid followed suit, her smile, too, turning into a frown.

"Hiccup, what's the matter?" asked Fishlegs. The twins had glided in closer on Barf and Belch. Everyone was there - except Snotlout. Fishlegs couldn’t help feeling a pang at the realization that Snotlout hadn’t even cared to join the search party. Oh well, it’s not like I was in any danger, I know Darkvarg’s cave like the back of my hand, and Meatlug’s there to protect me, he consoled himself. Snotlout’s always got my back when there’s real danger. No reason he should go running after me when I’m pouting like a little kid and--

"Isn’t Snotlout with you?” Hiccup asked, worry evident on his face. 

Fishlegs looked from Hiccup to Astrid. "Why would Snotlout be with me?"

It was hard to tell, but Fishlegs was sure that Hiccup's face went pale. "Maybe he’s back at the campfire? Bud?” he prompted Toothless, who dived and banked, heading for the boar pit. The others followed, lagging a little behind thanks to Hiccup’s head start.

But the site was deserted. Hiccup landed and hopped off Toothless, calling Snotlout’s name. The others landed by the campfire, which had burned down considerably with no-one to tend it for so long. “Oh no," Hiccup muttered, running a hand through his hair . Astrid placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

"What 'oh no'?" Fishlegs demanded, dread rising up from the pit of his stomach.

"After you flew off, we split up to look for you. Astrid and I went together but Snotlout went off by himself with Hookfang.”

“Went off?” Fishlegs hadn’t expected the bald statement to hit him as hard as it did. Suddenly, his chest felt tight. “Went off where?”

“To the caves,” Hiccup muttered. Toothless pushed his head under his arm, warbling comfortingly, and Hiccup scratched his scales.

Fishlegs felt his face drain of colour. "The caves? Alone? In the dark?!"

Hiccup and Astrid looked at each other. Hiccup nodded. "I know it’s not safe out there, that’s why we went looking for you. But Hookfang’s with him and…” He trailed off. Fishlegs’ horror must have shown on his face. “Is there something I don’t know that maybe I should know about?” Hiccup asked, voice hard.

"Of course there is!" Fishlegs retorted as he made a run for Meatlug.

“Fishlegs!” Hiccup held out a hand. He sounded like Stoick. “Stop. I’m not having anyone else run off before I understand what’s going on.”

Fishlegs shook his head. They were wasting time. “We have to find him!”

“And we will!” Hiccup climbed into Toothless’ saddle. “But I need to know what’s going on.”

“The drama unfolds,” Ruffnut whispered to Tuffnut.

“Almost better than mayhem and destruction,” Tuffnut nodded. “Almost. --Hey, Fearless Leader!” he called. “How about we head for the caves and talk on the way?”

“Great idea!” Hiccup had hardly got the words out before Toothless and Meatlug surged upward into the sky, Stormfly and Barf-and-Belch hurrying to catch up.

...

Once they were in the air, Hiccup and Toothless flew up beside Meatlug and Fishlegs. "Okay, tell me what’s going on,” Hiccup commanded in what Fishlegs thought of as his ‘chief’ voice. He didn’t remember any of them being able to say no when Hiccup used that tone.

Fishlegs took a deep breath. “Snotlout has a paralyzing fear of dark, confined spaces. Like caves. It's so severe it hits him like some kind of attack."

Hiccup did not expect that to be the answer. Of all the explanations, that was the least expected. “Hold on a minute, Fishlegs,” he protested. “Snotlout and I are cousins. If he had a fear that bad, don’t you think I’d know about it?”

“Uh… No offense, Hiccup,” called Ruffnut from Barf’s back, “but you weren’t really the type to hang out with us all when we were kids.”

“Unless you count that time we hung him from a tree,” Tuffnut cut in. “Ow!” he shouted as Astrid somehow managed to punch him despite being on Stormfly’s back.

“Wait,” Hiccup looked at the twins, “are you saying you know about this?”

“No, we don’t!” Ruffnut called back to him. “We’re just saying that you, although you are not a Nut, would not-know even more - or less - than us Nuts not-knowing!”

“But how do you know this, Fishlegs?” Hiccup asked, managing to keep himself from saying “know something his own family doesn’t.” He found himself asking softly, as if a tone any harsher than that would break… something.

Fishlegs let out a deep sigh. He had wanted to avoid this at all costs. He had promised, long ago, not to tell anyone what had happened that night. But he supposed that this was an exception. And maybe - here on the outpost of what amounted to a war between Berk and the dragon hunters - maybe it was time for Hiccup and the team to know a weakness that could potentially be used against Snotlout, against all of them.

"It was a few years before dragons were accepted on Berk. The Chief decided to end the feud between the Ingermans and the Jorgensons. So he…”

“Wait, what?” Hiccup blinked. “Dad never mentioned a feud between the Ingermans and the Jorgensons! When was this?!”

“It wasn’t a blood-feud or anything,” Fishlegs hastily reassured him, “just… You know. Snotlout’s dad has a talent for making friends and influencing people.”

Hiccup grimaced. “Yeah, influencing them to punch him in the face.”

Toothless chuckled, tilting his head up at Hiccup, and even Fishlegs was startled into a laugh. “Yeah. So you know.” He shrugged. “So Stoick arranged a dragon hunt with both our families, hoping it would reconcile us. Working together, resolve differences, at least that was the idea.”

“Okay.” Hiccup nodded. It sounded like something his dad would do. “But you’d have been too young to be allowed on a dragon hunt, wouldn’t you? When was this?”

Fishlegs rubbed his cheek with a knuckle. “We were about, uh, maybe ten or eleven,” he said, “and Snotlout’s dad insisted he come along for practice.” Toothless growled, Hiccup making much the same sound. “I was just a kid, I said if Snotlout was allowed on the hunt then I wanted to come too, and my dad ended up taking me. They kept us behind, out of danger. We were so far back I couldn’t even tell what breed it was,” Fishlegs added. “But Snotlout wanted to prove he was a Viking, and went after the dragon into a cave. Instead of hunting the dragon, we ended up forming a search party for Snotlout.”

Hiccup’s chest tightened. He nodded.

Fishlegs shook his head. “He didn’t get too far, but he’d gotten into a pitch-dark cave and had an - uh, an attack, I guess.. When we found him, he was barely breathing. The fear caused his lungs to tighten and he couldn’t take a breath. It was so bad he was hallucinating… talking to himself, saying things...” Fishlegs’ face darkened. “My father helped him, as he had experience dealing with attacks like Snotlout's. I remember he had a name for it, he called it a panic attack. That was the night our families' feud ended, and I discovered Snotlout's secret." Fishlegs finished, his eyes downcast.

Toothless warbled softly. Hiccup didn't know what to do or what to say. He bent low over Toothless’ neck, taking comfort in his warmth. The Hoffersons and the Jorgensons he had known about, but he had honestly had no clue about what he’d just been told. The Ingermans had had a feud with the Jorgensons as well? He couldn't fathom it. His dad had been more discreet than Hiccup knew - and Fishlegs too, he realized, looking over at him, to have kept this a secret. It was so bizarre that Hiccup almost considered the possibility that he was hearing things. But the look on Fishlegs’ face said he had heard correctly.

"W-wow," Hiccup started as he looked ahead, "I didn't realise you and Snotlout had such a history."

“We were sworn to secrecy. Everyone who went on that hunt was.”

Hiccup was filled anew with respect for Stoick. “Well, you guys sure kept it. My dad never said a word. I had no clue about any of this.”

Fishlegs scanned the area below them, biting his fingernail. “This is where I landed, but I don’t see any signs of a Nightmare’s landing marks…”

"You're worried about him, aren’t you?" Hiccup asked softly, guiding Toothless closer to Meatlug. His own chest felt tight.

Fishlegs clicked his tongue and frowned, but even that didn't hide the panic in his features. He turned his head toward Hiccup, looking him in the eyes. "You didn’t see him back then. What it did to him...” He shuddered visibly. “He looked so desperate. All the time my dad was working on him, all I could think was he was being attacked by some kind of invisible monster.” Fishlegs scanned the forest beneath them again, shaking his head. “I know it sounds crazy, but it was like he was being tortured and couldn’t get away.” Meatlug rumbled sympathetically, and Fishlegs rubbed her head. “I had nightmares about it for years. I hope you never have to see it. And I never want to see it again.”

The intensity in Fishlegs' eyes bored into Hiccup. A strange jolt went through Hiccup to see this new side of Fishlegs. His lips parted in surprise. “Fishlegs…” He wasn’t sure what he would have said, but a shout from Astrid caught both their attention. 

"Look! Fire!"

Fishlegs looked down. Sure enough, there was a flicker of flame on the ground, almost hidden by rock outcroppings and branches. He dove down and landed, the others landing behind him.

Fishlegs dismounted from Meatlug, taking off at a run towards the strange shape still half-hidden in the trees. It came bounding toward him, and roared, flapping its wings. "It's Hookfang!" Fishlegs yelled behind him to the others, who were landing among the trees. "But Snotlout isn't with him." He moved closer to Hookfang. 

Hookfang cleared the flames from his body and turned full circle, flapping his wings. He gestured to the cave mouth and roared, his tail lashing from side to side. Stormfly squawked to him, and he roared again.

“Is he in there?” Fishlegs almost ran inside, only stopped by Hiccup’s shout.

“Wait!” Hiccup stepped forward, Toothless at his side.

“Hiccup advising caution, now that’s a first,” Ruffnut whispered to Tuffnut.

Hiccup ignored them. “Hookfang, is there a dragon in there? Some kind of predator?” Hookfang shook his head. “Is Snotlout in there?” Hookfang nodded. “Why aren’t you with him?” Hookfang roared and grunted, desperately circling his tail. Toothless went up to him, warbling softly, but the Nightmare refused to be comforted, flapping his wings and flaming up.

“If I’m right,” Fishlegs was breathing hard, but his eyes narrowed in thought, “Snotlout might have gone down a tunnel too small for Hookfang to get through.” Hookfang nodded vigorously and Fishlegs paled. “Is he okay?”

Hookfang shook his head again. That was all the prompting they needed. “Come on!” said Astrid. 

Before the riders could go into the cave, Hiccup motioned to Hookfang. “Hookfang, lead us to him.”

The cave mouth was almost as high as the clubhouse dome. The riders and their dragons hurried in, following Hookfang, who scuttled on ahead, turning every few seconds to check that they were still behind him and urging them on with frantic grunts. It was a surprise to them that Hookfang was actually worried sick about his obnoxious rider. Fishlegs guessed he had witnessed the horrible darkness that attacked Snotlout from within. 

As they went further into the tunnels, the moonlight that had lit up the entrance faded out of sight. “Give us some light, bud?” Hiccup asked, and Toothless obligingly fired a blast at the cave roof, his plasma flame setting the rock aglow. 

Then Hookfang threw back his head and let out a cry the Riders had only ever heard from dragons mourning their dead.


	4. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You care for him a lot, don't you?" she said softly. Fishlegs glanced to the side, just able to see the sympathetic expression on her face. He coughed, looking away again.

A miserable man,  
and ill-conditioned,  
sneers at every thing;  
one thing he knows not,  
which he ought to know,  
that he is not free from faults.

…

The dragon’s cry stopped everyone in their tracks. None of the Vikings in the cave dared speak. For a long moment, everything seemed to stand still, the cave resonating with the Nightmare’s lament. 

Hiccup heaved a shaky breath. "I did this,” he whispered. Astrid placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Barf and Belch nosed at Hookfang’s face, while the other, shorter dragons moved around their humans to chirr at him questioningly. He looked down at them and jerked his head at a crevice in the rock, wide enough for a human and possibly for Toothless, but not for any of the other dragons. Even Fishlegs would just barely fit.

"We've got to get moving,” said Fishlegs. “We've already wasted time mourning when he is still in there." He turned to Meatlug. “Wait here, girl. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She grunted unhappily, but licked him and nudged him toward the opening. 

Astrid and the twins followed suit, their dragons recognizing it wasn’t possible to follow. “Take care of him, girl,” Astrid whispered to Stormfly, with a subtle gesture towards Hookfang. She wasn’t sure whether the Nightmare’s cry meant they would find Snotlout wounded or worse. Even though she knew the hot-headed dragon and his egotistical rider cared for one another, she had been shaken by Hookfang’s keening cry. She wouldn’t have believed that Hookfang cared this much. 

Once they slipped past the opening, Toothless shot a plasma blast at the roof of the cave, giving some light as they filed cautiously along. “Are you sure he still has this, uh, this thing?” Hiccup murmured to Fishlegs. “Maybe he grew out of it.”

“He could have, but more likely he hides it really well,” Fishlegs sighed. “You know how Snotlout is. He likes to pretend he isn’t afraid of anything.”

“But we’ve been in tight spaces before,” Hiccup said, taking cautious steps forward. “Even dark, tight spaces. And he does night patrol all the time. He’s never had a problem with it…”

“He’s not scared of the dark. And he doesn’t have a problem with confined spaces as long as there’s enough light to see.” Fishlegs’ voice, despite his worry, took on a lecturing tone. “It’s very rare to find a cave that’s completely devoid of light in the daytime, unless you venture deeper inside than is safe - and even then, we always have our dragons with us. They give off light.”

Hiccup swallowed. “Just in case he does get an attack. You called this thing… like being tortured," Hiccup said, almost afraid to speak. "What does it do exactly?" 

"I can't," Fishlegs’ voice cracked.. "I can't think about it. I just," Fishlegs heaved a shaky breath. He turned to look behind at his teammates in the semi-darkness. "Never mind. Let's speed this search up." said Fishlegs as he moved forward a little faster. He wiped away his tears, unaware that Astrid had moved up close beside him. 

"You care for him a lot, don't you?" she said softly. Fishlegs glanced to the side, just able to see the sympathetic expression on her face. He coughed, looking away again. 

"We grew up together. Our families were close. Of course we weren't always friendly to each other, but…” He shook his head, not knowing what to say.

“You know,” Astrid said lightly, but with intent, “sometimes, when a little kid has a crush on another little kid, he’ll pull her pigtails and say ‘I hate you!’ Or he’ll call her stupid.” She smiled soberly. “Snotlout always did have the emotional maturity of a three-year-old.”  
Fishlegs’ head snapped round towards her, but he didn’t say anything.

The atmosphere became tense the further the Riders crept into the silent tunnel. Even the twins were quiet, bringing up the rear. Occasionally, Toothless would lift up his head, sniffing, and jerk his head right or left to guide them. It was when Hiccup's loud and scared voice cut through the tense bubble that surrounded them that the atmosphere changed entirely. 

"Snotlout!" 

Hiccup and Toothless ducked sideways into a tunnel, running fast towards something that caught their eye. The others followed suit and what they saw pierced Fishlegs straight through the heart.

In the dim light from the rocks Toothless had set aglow, Hiccup was kneeling by Snotlout’s quivering body. Fishlegs fell to his knees beside them and softly placed his hand on his elbow, only to recoil. His body was cold to the touch. So pale that his veins were clearly visible. The only sign of colour was the weeping cuts on his arms and hands. 

Astrid’s voice broke the silence. “Snotlout, can you hear us?” she called sharply.

“He can’t hear you,” rasped Fishlegs, devastated. Tears welled up in his eyes at the sight of Snotlout's face. Most of it was hidden behind his matted black hair, but his eyes were glazed and unseeing, and the tracks of tears could still be seen, along with his purple and dry lips. His head rested on his left arm and Fishlegs caught sight of damage to Snotlout's hand. There were teeth marks on the pad where thumb meets forefinger; some had even drawn blood. His hand tightened around Snotlout’s elbow. He reached out for his face, but Hiccup was already crouching close.

“Snotlout?” Hiccup whispered into his ear. Toothless crooned. “We’re here. It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Fishlegs opened his mouth to say it wasn’t any use, but started when Snotlout whispered, “Let me out.”

Fishlegs cringed. Snotlout had said the same thing ten years ago… “What?” Hiccup asked.

Snotlout’s eyes opened, wide and staring. “Let me out, Da! Please! I’ll be good!”

Such rage poured through Fishlegs that for a moment his vision washed red. Last time he’d been too young to understand, but now… From the widening of Hiccup’s eyes, he’d heard it too.

Fishlegs’ fists clenched and he heard a growl building in his own throat, but then Snotlout whimpered. Fishlegs forced his anger down and hauled Snotlout into his arms. “It’s okay,” he said firmly, holding back the rage he felt so as not to scare his half-conscious friend. “You’re safe. You’re here on the Edge with us.” He tried to cover Snotlout’s bare, freezing arms and hands with his own as much as possible to warm them up.

Snotlout thrashed in Fishlegs’ arms, blinking but unseeing. “No! No, don’t put me in there…” Then, with a gasp, he slumped, out cold. 

Fishlegs felt something wet hit his legs softly. Even unconscious, Snotlout was crying.

The powerful rage that surged through Fishlegs’ arms made him feel he could tear down the cave with his bare hands. Instead, he was very gentle as he lifted Snotlout in his arms. He wasn’t very tall to start with, but trembling and curled up as he was, he felt tiny and vulnerable. “It’s okay,” Fishlegs whispered, ignoring the sensation of Snotlout's fingernails clawing at his skin as he tried desperately to escape from wherever he was trapped in his mind. He pushed down his righteous anger and spoke softly to the small figure slumped in his arms as he strode rapidly out of the caves, Toothless lighting the way and the others following behind. 

...

How Fishlegs got back to Dragon's Edge was a blur. The last thing he remembered was carrying Snotlout onto Meatlug, Hookfang nosing at them and flaming up. Now he was in the small loft of Hiccup’s hut, sitting on a stool at Snotlout’s bedside. He was still unconscious; his chest moved up and down unsteadily. Hiccup and Toothless sat across from Fishlegs at Snotlout’s other side, Hiccup still looking rather pale and shocked. Behind Fishlegs, Hookfang lay squeezed into a corner of the loft, rumbling worriedly. Every so often, he released a puff of smoke from his nostrils.

Fishlegs bent over Snotlout. “Wake up,” he said, trying to control the way his voice cracked. He felt his tears fall onto his arm as he leaned forward and reached out to hold Snotlout's hand. It was frighteningly cold. But yet he kept holding on as he cried for his friend to open his eyes.

Friend. Fishlegs couldn’t lie to himself any longer. Yes, he’d counted Snotlout as a friend for a long time now, and he’d trusted him with his life for years, same as with his other teammates, but these feelings were more than friendship. Snotlout was always calling him boring, and went out of his way to say “I don’t care.” It hurt, every time. But as he looked at Snotlout’s pale, tearstained face, and remembered how terrified he’d been to think he might be dead, Fishlegs realized that even if Snotlout didn’t feel the same, it would be cowardly to keep pretending he didn’t care for him. And Vikings were never cowards.

“He cares about you, you know,” Hiccup murmured.

Fishlegs felt his eyes snap up to Hiccup. “Did he say that?”

Hiccup choked, and his face went scarlet. “What? No! Uh… No, no,” he laughed awkwardly, “no, he didn’t uh tell me anything, what makes you think he told me anything?”

Fishlegs stared at Hiccup, then back down at Snotlout, warmth spilling over his shoulders, seeming to spread down his arms and into his chest. Snotlout had told Hiccup he cared. He held his hand tighter.

Suddenly, the dragons’ heads shot up. A moment later, there were bangs and yells from outside. “Hiccup!” Astrid’s voice called. 

Hiccup put a hand on Fishlegs’ shoulder. “I’ll take care of it,” he said. But he had barely turned to go down the stairs when Astrid burst into the hut.

"Hiccup," Astrid ran in, white-faced and panting. "Dragon Hunter attack. They must have found us unguarded. We need to get to our defenses," she looked apologetically at Fishlegs, “all of us.”

Hiccup and Toothless ran down the stairs. Fishlegs looked at Snotlout and nodded. He stood up, but before he left he bent to kiss the top of Snotlout’s head.

"I'll be back," Fishlegs whispered and ran out of the hut. 

Before Astrid turned to leave, she faced Hookfang, sympathetic when she saw how distressed he was. 

“Look after him for us, Hookfang. We’ll call if we need you,” Astrid smiled. Hookfang bowed his head in understanding. Astrid nodded her head and cast one last glance at Snotlout before she ran out of the hut and jumped on Stormfly. 

Hookfang made his way beside Snotlout’s bed, and settled his body on the floor, resting his head on top of the bed next to Snotlout’s arm. He blew out warm air, worried about his freezing, unconscious rider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just you wait till the next chapter


	5. Nobody's Watching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A riot has broken out on the Edge.  
> Hookfang is torn between protecting his rider or protecting the island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY FUCKING SHIT HERE WE GO
> 
> 5 MONTHS LATER AND WE GIVE YOU THIS BUT THAT'S OKAY, I LOVE TEARS
> 
> Honestly, this never would have happened if it weren't for sarahenany. I owe her so much oh my god.

All door-ways,  
before going forward,  
should be looked to;  
for difficult it is to know  
where foes may sit  
within a dwelling.

 

"I'll be back."

 

The words seemed to drop and echo into the deep well around him. Snotlout felt like he had been in the cold and dark forever, with no idea how to even find the way out. But there were words… warm breath against his ear. Like a warm current swirling through the still air… Air currents had to be coming from somewhere, right? And this one was warm. He could follow the warmth. Find the way out.

He blinked. Surfaced.

Now he remembered. There’d been -- that thing in the forest, dumb, dumb, dumb, waltzing into a cave like some muttonhead. Being… He couldn’t help a shiver… being carried out. It was like he’d been behind some sort of dark veil and was only starting to see things in bits and pieces. But… Hiccup and Fishlegs had brought him home. And… and Fishlegs had whispered in his ear. Softly. With affection...

There was the shriek of a Night Fury and the whine of a plasma blast. And the explosions of Singetails. This wasn’t a memory. This was happening right now.

Shit!

The sounds of battle raging outside blew away the ghost of his gladness at Fishlegs’ loving whispers. Forget loving whispers! The Edge was under attack!  
...

Astrid pelted outside, leaping onto Stormfly and laying down a long, concentrated blast of magnesium flame, instantly blowing the Dragon Hunter ships into kindling. Judging by the way they were moored and the flames from the Singetails’ blasts at the clubhouse, they had arrived a little before dawn. But how did they get so many ships moored without being seen?

As Stormfly banked and turned, Astrid almost smacked herself in the forehead. Of course! No night patrols! They’d all been distracted with that stupid… Well, it wasn’t stupid, she corrected herself. It had been an emergency… But they had allowed their emotions to distract them, and neglected their guard duty. Of course the Hunters had lookouts to find out when the Edge was unguarded.

Unguarded. The word sounded bitter to Astrid. No way around it: they had left the Edge unguarded. And now they were paying for it.

“I thought you said this was going to be easy, Krogan!” came a scream from the beach. She didn’t bother to try and find out who it was: she just turned and wordlessly directed Stormfly to flame. 

“It is easy! Unless you’re working with a team of idiots who can’t deal with a bunch of kids!”

“They just came out of nowhere! You said it was unguarded!”

She tried to find whoever was speaking, but smoke was making it hard to see activity on the ground. It was chaos below. Smoke belched from the burning ships, flakes of burning ash flying up almost to where she was. Toothless and Barf-and-Belch were circling to flank the Flyers in a half-pincer movement, Fishlegs distracting them by puttering around the front and pretending to be an easy target. Meatlug dodged the blasts and the Singetails screamed in frustration, redoubling their efforts. But they were still underestimating Fishlegs and Meatlug, just because she was a Gronckle. They didn’t learn - potentially fatal in battle.

“Give it up, Krogan!” Hiccup yelled. “You’ll never take the Edge!”

Krogan met Hiccup’s eyes, then raised his arm straight up in the air and tilted the flat of his hand to the side. The Singetails veered off and banked in tight formation, like a flat object turning to the side - like the way he’d moved his hand... But then they kept on flying, turning completely upside down, describing an arc over the heads of the Riders. Astrid could only stare. When did they learn how to do that?

The moment of surprise had cost them. The Singetails rained fire down on the clubhouse, the metal-reinforced dome withstanding more of their attacks than the wooden decking. Hiccup, Toothless and the others were trying to drive them back, but the balance was tipping in favor of the Flyers. “Stormfly, fire at will,” Astrid instructed. She grabbed the hollow yak horn that was attached to her belt and blew on it. They’d arranged this as an emergency signal after the last attack: any wild dragons on the Edge who knew them were to come and help defend their home. The deep tone resonated through the air.  
…

“The Edge is under attack!” Snotlout’s eyes snapped open. He jackknifed up--only to be stopped by a heavy weight on his arm, jerking him back. “Ugh--” Bile rose in his throat, and he choked, head spinning. “Dammit,” he muttered, slumping back down. 

The weight raised its head, huffing smoke out of its nostrils and narrowing yellow eyes at Snotlout. And just where do you think you’re going?

Even with the blasts of fire and battle cries raging outside, Snotlout realized he wouldn’t be much use if he fell flat on his face. He let himself relax as he lay back down, willing his head to stop spinning, trying hard to get his breathing under control.Something nudged his arm: in his giant jaws, Hookfang held the handle of a bucket with a wooden bowl floating in it. His heart swelled. “Thanks, Fangster,” he sighed, or tried to; he didn’t feel his words were coming out right. Hiccup and Fishlegs must have left the water for him. Warmth spilled down his chest at the thought of, well, of them thinking what he’d need when he woke up.

He rolled onto his side and dipped the bowl in the bucket, Hookfang still taking its weight, and drank till he felt halfway human again. A wave of dizziness made him flop onto his back again, but it was already getting better. Hookfang swiveled his head and set the bucket down, then the weight settled back on Snotlout’s arm.

Now he thought about it, that warm weight had been there all night. He remembered warm breath at his side… Snotlout should be touched that Hookfang had stayed by his side, but this was no time for feelings. Not when everyone but him was out there, getting shot at! “Hookfang,” he said urgently, “c’mon, help me up. We need to get out there.”

The dragon just tilted his head at him. Well, okay, admittedly, what had actually come out of Snotlout’s mouth was, “Hoofa, ca, hel muh,” and, “w’eed t’gou’thuh.” But that was no excuse to look at him like that!

It wasn’t that Snotlout didn’t appreciate Hookfang’s concern. He could see it. But for Thor’s sake, it wasn’t him Hookfang should be worried about! He was safe in bed! It was the others who… “Hookfang,” he said, trying not to slur his words. “I’m f…” He panted a little, but quickly recovered. “I’m fine.”

He rolled onto his side and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, hitting Hookfang in the back. Hookfang let out a yelp and glared, which Snotlout returned with a slightly apologetic look. “I have to get out there. They need me.” He rested his hand on Hookfang’s head, pulling himself to his feet. The room felt like there was too little air: probably all the smoke from the battle. He steadied himself on his feet. “I need to…”

Hookfang pulled his head away and the room spun. “Hookf--!” Snotlout managed to gasp out before thudding down onto the bed again. Hookfang barred his way, shaking his head. “Oh, for-- I’m fine!” Snotlout snapped, trying not to show how out of breath he was. “Why must you always fight with me?”

Blasts echoed from outside: the hiss of Zippleback gas and the crackle of their spark, a Night Fury’s scream, a Gronckle’s lava blast - nothing that chilled him to hear, nothing at all - a Nadder’s spines slicing through the air - and then Singetail blasts, dozens upon dozens. “They’re outnumbered,” Snotlout whispered. He gripped his knees and stood, watched by disapproving yellow eyes. He met them without flinching. “You know they need help,” he panted, able to form words properly now. “Even I can hear it.”

He stumbled around his dragon’s head, having to grab onto Hookfang when his knees buckled. “Hooky,” he whispered, leaning heavily on his snout, “we gotta…”

Hookfang snagged Snotlout’s tunic between his teeth. You’re not going anywhere.

Snotlout stopped at once. He wasn’t going anywhere unless his dragon allowed it. He couldn’t fight five thousand pounds of flaming muscle on a good day. “Hookfang…”

He met his dragon’s eyes -- and what he saw there made his breath catch.

Snotlout had expected to see what he always saw: a flat, stubborn gaze, giving no quarter, showing no emotion: the same thing he’d seen, day in and day out, since the day he met the Nightmare. Everyone said the eyes were the windows to the soul, but Hookfang - much like Snotlout - kept his feelings jealously guarded, locked behind an iron door. But now, his eyes held so much emotion: pain, indecision, worry. Snotlout stiffened in shock. Hookfang was laying himself open, everything he felt laid bare for Snotlout to see. It was something Snotlout had never experienced before. He only ever understood his dragon through body language: a shrug, the movement of a wing or a flick of his tail. But now, the once-impenetrable door that locked away the dragon’s feelings lay in ruins: he could almost see the charred, twisted metal, broken and bent, forced open of Hookfang’s own accord. And he could see it all in Hookfang’s eyes: I can’t let you out there. I couldn’t stand to lose you a second time.

Hookfang’s jaws tightened on Snotlout’s tunic. His eyes were big and round, pupils fully blown. Snotlout could see the depth of emotion in that gaze, and it made something tighten in his own chest. Hookfang had almost lost him, and he clearly never wanted something like last night to happen again. The dragon had gained the courage to push aside his pride - his insecurities - and make himself vulnerable by breaking down his walls. He’d laid himself open to Snotlout’s derision or mockery, to any of a hundred things he might have done when he used to be what he thought of as Old Snotlout.

Instead, Snotlout met his dragon’s eyes, unflinching. That dark and lonely night they had shared had forced his own gate open, ripped it off its hinges too. His memory of last night was a blur, but he recalled the sounds of Nightmare screaming, Hookfang pounding to get in as Snotlout spiraled into his own mind. He could see the shadow of that terror in his friend’s eyes. Maybe all it took was a vulnerable moment to open a jaded heart.

Guilt closed Snotlout’s throat. He didn’t want to put Hookfang through that fear again so soon, but he had to. He had to help his friends, defend his home. He would be damned if he sat idly by as his fellow Dragon Riders risked their lives. 

The hiss of gas. A spark. Another explosion rocked the Edge. “I have to go,” Snotlout said, soft but urgent. 

Hookfang shook his head. He was trying to look strong and impassive, but Snotlout had seen the fear behind the anger. Their gazes locked. Snotlout opened his mouth to speak.

The reverberating bellow of Astrid’s distress horn cut through the air.

“Hookfang,” Snotlout grated. “We’ve got to get out there.”

Hookfang shook his head and pointed at himself with his tail. I’ve got to get out there.

Snotlout folded his arms. “The minute you get out there, I’m going too. I’m not just sitting around in bed listening to everyone else defending our home!”

Hookfang stalled, staring at Snotlout. “I’ll be safer on your back,” Snotlout coaxed. He could tell that Hookfang’s mind was whirling. Had the dragon’s thoughts always been so transparent? Hookfang had to go, it was his duty. But he knew that if he left, Snotlout would leave too. He wouldn’t be able to stop him.

The horn sounded again. Maybe it was their imagination, but it sounded just a little louder, a little more urgent. Snotlout wanted to yell at Hookfang, but instead, he took a gentle step toward the dragon’s neck, his hand extended. The saddle was off, but he’d ridden Hookfang without a saddle plenty of times before. “C’mon, Fangster,” he said, forcing down his shortness of breath. “You and me. Let’s take these bastards down.”

And Hookfang lowered his neck.

“Yeah!” Snotlout swung his leg over and clutched onto Hookfang’s horns against the wave of dizziness that made his head spin. “Snotlout, Hookfang, oi oi… huh...” He gasped for breath, the blasts and explosions thankfully hiding his distress as they streaked out straight into battle.  
…

Fishlegs had had it with pretending to be an easy target. Meatlug darted away and hovered in a tight space that the dragons with the bigger wingspans couldn’t get into. A thunder of wild Gronckles, drawn by Astrid’s horn, emerged from the cracks in the rock like a swarm of bees. How could he-- “Lava blast!” he cried, spotting a strip of limestone on the beach. Meatlug nodded and gave a roar, instructing the others. She veered away to protect her human rider while the wild Gronckles formed a line and started splattering boiling lava onto the limestone. It began to smoke, belching noxious fumes. The Gronckles could breathe it just fine, but the Flyers fell back, coughing. Now the Edge was protected by a wall of white smoke. “You’re amazing, Princess!” Fishlegs yelled, moving further out to sea. In the distance he could see the Night Terrors, coming to protect their home in the shape of a gigantic Night Fury. They were holding their fire, but Fishlegs knew their little blasts could combine into a fearsome fireball. “Reinforcements!” he crowed. “Yeah!”

Fishlegs took a moment to check on his fellow-riders. Stormfly and Barf-and-Belch were blasting from either side, preventing the Flyers from veering around the wall of limestone fumes. Hiccup and Toothless were covering the top, although the smoke was rising higher than Singetails normally liked to fly anyway; the Night Fury seemed to be everywhere at once, laying down cover fire and support. The Night Terrors were there now, navigating the smoke with ease. They fired and fired, the Hunter ships kindling by now. Krogan’s Titanwing Singetail roared, refusing to be beaten back, even though the others were visibly tiring. One final push…

“Yeah!” From behind Fishlegs, a thunder of wild Nightmares burst through the limestone-smoke barrier. They flashed past all around him, almost hitting Meatlug with the tips of their massive wings, flaming and roaring. “Go, go, go!” The Nightmares were the largest dragons on the island, and with their appearance, the balance had tipped again in favor of Dragon’s Edge -- defended by everyone who lived on it. “You show ‘em, Hooky!”

Fishlegs felt the color drain from his face. “Snotlout?!” What the Hel was their injured teammate doing in battle? “You’re in no state…” Fishlegs whispered. “What…”

As he gaped open-mouthed, the Nightmares burst in among the Flyers. The only reason Fishlegs could see Snotlout in all the chaos was because the Nightmares were so close, and Hookfang was the only Nightmare who wasn’t on fire. Snotlout’s yells were lost in the roar and crackle of flames and the blasts of dragon-fire. The others still couldn’t see him; they were flying too fast, maneuvering too rapidly. Fishlegs’ chest clenched. Snotlout was a formidable fighter, but he was deathly pale as he clung to Hookfang’s horns, and - Hel, was he flying without a saddle?

“Snotlout, be careful!” Fishlegs bellowed, but his voice was blown away on the wind. “Hold your fire!” he yelled out to the others, but no-one heard him. The Singetails were starting to scream and retreat, their flyers yelling and lashing them to try and get them to stay. Some of them dumped their riders into the sea. “Hiccup!” Fishlegs screamed desperately.

Hiccup’s head snapped around to Fishlegs. Except for Krogan and two others, the Flyers, routed, had broken formation and were finally turning tail to flee. The Flyer on Krogan’s right-hand side aimed one of his dragon-root arrows at Hiccup’s unguarded flank.

Everything seemed to drop into a strange slowness. Fishlegs could hear his own yell, see his hand thrown out uselessly. The Flyer’s bowstring snapped free, every individual vibration clear in Fishlegs’ eyes. Hiccup was bent low over Toothless, locks of hair blowing into his face, pushing the Flyers to retreat. Time slowed to a crawl, the sunlight reflecting off the slimy green arrowhead as the shaft flew through the air. Hiccup and Toothless were focused on the fighting and didn’t see it at all. Fishlegs shouldn’t have been able to follow it with his eyes, but he was. He could see the place where it would, where it must, strike Hiccup’s vulnerable side. Humans weren’t susceptible to dragon-root, but the metal tip would kill Hiccup just as surely when it pierced his ribcage.

A blur of Monstrous Nightmare dived between the arrow and Hiccup. The dragon-root arrowhead buried itself in Hookfang’s flank. “HOOKFANG!” Snotlout screamed.

The Nightmare’s wings fluttered once, and he fell.

Toothless and Stormfly dived to catch Hookfang. Without a saddle, Snotlout was already falling. His weak grip on Hookfang’s horns had been knocked loose with the impact, and with the Flyers’ final retreat, he fell with his dragon towards the ocean below.

Krogan twisted in the air, abandoning retreat for a moment. And Fishlegs’ heart sank.

A Titanwing Singetail is one of the most agile dragons in the air, Fishlegs’ dragon knowledge rattled helplessly in his brain as Krogan dived beneath Toothless and snatched Snotlout out of the air. “Snotlout!” Fishlegs screamed. And one of the fastest, the Singetail entry continued relentlessly. The only dragon capable of catching a Singetail was a Night Fury… the Night Fury currently being helped by Barf-and-Belch to lift an unconscious, dripping Hookfang out of the water. The wild Edge dragons weren’t battle-trained. Stormfly was the only one who gave chase - along with Fishlegs, who knew his princess couldn’t catch up, but still tried - and in the end, it wasn’t enough.

It never had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter ended up being way longer than expected so it's being split into two parts  
> you know what that means?  
> yes! another chapter!


	6. Good Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks and kudos and all the hugs to the original author and muse, heartof_paper, for letting me play in this lovely sandbox.  
> Huge heartfelt shout-out to Thursday26 for help with Krogan's character, assistance with plot and dialogue, and superhero-rescue from a computer glitch that would otherwise have lost the chapter completely.

**If thou hast another whom thou little trustest,**

**yet wouldst good from him derive,**

**thou shouldst speak him fair but think craftily,**

**and leasing pay with lying.**

* * *

  
_Well, shit._

The darkness cleared from Snotlout’s head slowly. He was lying on his side on a wooden surface. The air he breathed was close and stuffy. His arms were tied behind his back, his head wrapped in a hessian bag. It wasn’t completely dark down here: he could see through the coarse weave that he was in the hold of a ship, even if the rocking and creaking of a boat in water hadn’t already told him.

He breathed slowly, taking stock of his surroundings. By the lack of sea-bird cries, he was a fair distance from land. He peered through the tiny holes in the bag more carefully, looking around him at the ship’s hold. It was lined with cages that might have been used for dragons, but they were empty. Well, except for the one Snotlout was in. That was funny for some reason. He wasn’t laughing, but amusement still swelled inside him. Was he getting lightheaded because there wasn’t enough air down here?

The hold creaked and rocked again, a wave striking the side of the hull. Snotlout breathed in deep and even, trying to think how long he’d been down here. He’d been knocked out briefly when he’d fallen from--

Oh gods! _Hookfang!_

Snotlout chilled and he gasped for air, pulling in fast, shallow breaths. How could he have forgotten that?! His skin stood up in gooseflesh as he saw again the dragon-root arrow burying itself in the soft part of Hookfang’s side, his great wings fluttering limply like torn fabric as he fell unconscious into the ocean. _Stoker Class dragons are the fastest-affected by dragon-root because of their heart-fire,_ Fishlegs had told them once. Fishlegs was so wonderful and so smart and he knew everything and oh gods _his partner had been shot._ “Hookfang…” Snotlout muttered, shaking his head. He had to trust that the others had saved him, he had to. They wouldn’t let Hookfang drown, poisoned. Anything else was… he couldn’t even stand to think of it.

He gritted his teeth, squirming around into a sitting position. “Okay,” he muttered to himself. “Time to act like a Jorgenson.” His heart clenched painfully and he let it, allowing the fear to surge through him. The sooner he let himself feel it, the sooner he could think through it.

He was taken hostage. That much was clear. If Hiccup had said that, Snotlout would have had a good time calling him ‘Hiccup the Obvious.’ But Hiccup wasn’t here. He was safe, thank the gods. He and Hookfang – Snotlout pushed down his fear sternly – he and Hookfang had kept the arrow from hitting Hiccup. “Fishlegs will make the antidote,” Snotlout whispered. “He’ll do it. He won’t let Hookfang… He _won’t.”_ He panted hard for a few moments. It was a miserable situation, but if that arrow had hit Hiccup, their fishbone leader wouldn’t have survived it. No matter _how_ superhuman he believed himself to be. “Gods-damned idiot,” Snotlout muttered. It made him feel better. “Thinks he knows everything.” Yes, that was good. “Him and that other geek.” Warmth poured through him. “You better be taking care of my Hooky, Fishface,” he whispered.

Okay. Okay. Calm down. Breathe. _Calm._ So. They had him hostage. Probably wanted to use him as leverage against the others. Of course, the others didn’t _have_ to give in to the coercion: the smart thing to do would be to leave him to die. “But since when are Princess Bleeding-Heart and those other idiots smart?” Snotlout muttered. His heart warmed and filled with dismay all at once at the certain knowledge that the Riders would come after him. And they shouldn’t. He could see it now, the riders descending on the ship, their battle cries mixing with the Hunters’. They wouldn’t stop on the deck, rushing to the hold, out of breath, fear on their faces. Fishlegs would be leading the group, probably throwing himself straight into danger, unable to hide his concern. His heart speeded up. They were coming for him. They were.

He jerked, trying to sit up. He couldn’t quite manage it, but the fog was clearing from his head. They weren’t coming, he told himself. Or if they were, they sure as Hel _shouldn’t_. “The smart thing to do would be to cut their losses,” Snotlout muttered. He was a fucking liability. First, his craziness had made the team leave the Edge unguarded, which had gotten them attacked, and _then_ he’d put the bow on it by getting captured. What had possessed Snotlout to think he could be any help to the team in battle? Yeah, he’d done it before, but… that was before he’d broken down into a blubbering mess. His head throbbed from where he’d hit it against the cave walls, and his arms stung with the bites and scratches he’d put on his own self. “Great,” he sneered, disgusted at himself. “Now we don’t need the Hunters to beat us up. We can do the job just fine all by ourselves.”

* * *

 

The door creaked open. Lantern-light pierced Snotlout's eyes, diffused by the bag, but still too bright. “He’s awake,” someone yelled.

“Oh, joy,” Snotlout muttered. He rolled around as best he could with his hands tied and rocked himself up into a sitting position. At the sound of footsteps coming down from the upper deck, he held himself up a little straighter. _Wait a minute._ Sitting straight up with a bag over his head? How dumb must that look? Instead, he bent over, letting himself look more cowed than he really was. _At least this act goes with my outfit._

The footsteps thudded down the stairs, then came to a stop. The figure was silhouetted in the torchlight coming in from behind him, but there was no mistaking Krogan. He pulled up a wooden stool and sat down, one of his men coming in and setting a lantern on the table next to him. “Have a nice nap?” asked Krogan, sounding quite serious. There was derision in his tone, but subtle, barely there. “Can I get you anything, Rider? Food?” Krogan paused. “Water?”

Suddenly, Snotlout realized how parched his throat was. He swallowed without thinking, and regretted it when he heard Krogan chuckle. “No, thanks,” he said, trying to hide the way his voice cracked, not wanting to risk accepting anything from his enemies. “I’m good.” He did sit up straight now. He wondered if Krogan knew he could see through the bag. Probably not, not in this light. Snotlout already knew what the Hunters looked like, so it must be to disorient him, making it that much harder to escape. It was gratifying that they felt they needed to take these extra steps against a bound prisoner, but it didn’t help that they were this wary of the Riders’ fighting skills. It meant less chance of them underestimating him. Oh well, he’d just have to look weaker. He wondered just how far he could play out the act of the weak and terrified prisoner.

“What do you think, Rider?” Krogan said without preamble. “Do you think you’re worth enough to your friends that they’ll give up the Dragon Eye lenses for you?”

Snotlout shook his head and slumped, letting his head fall forward. If his arms hadn’t been tied behind his back, he’d have rested his elbows on his knees. “Dream on,” he said, despondent, playing it up a little bit. There was a moment of silence: maybe he’d gone too far. Pull it back a bit. “I’ve always been Hiccup’s competition for Chief. He’ll be glad to get rid of me.” Bitter. Bitter was what he was aiming for.

Even with the motion of the ship, Snotlout could hear Krogan’s breath catch. _Thank you, Hookfang, for stealth listening skills._ His heart panged at the memory of Hookfang falling. One good thing about the bag, it concealed his emotions. He tried to take a deep breath to calm down without making it obvious. He couldn’t get worked up about the others now. Krogan had to believe the Riders would rather be rid of Snotlout than waste energy on saving him.

The creaking and rocking continued for some moments. It was taking too long for Krogan to take the bait. What else could he say? Do? Another inhalation through his nose, quietly of course. Think, Snotlout. _Think_. What was the right way to convince Krogan that there was bad blood between the riders?

Then it clicked and Snotlout changed his body language. He pulled back his shoulders, puffed up his chest, and made a show of looking around. “How about you get this bag off my head?” he said. “It’s not like I don’t know who you are.” A laugh. “Or are you just that scared I’ll beat you up if I can see you?” He let some contempt slip into his tone. “Not that I couldn’t take you all down with one hand tied behind my back.” A challenge. No fear. He couldn’t be scared now. At least not on the outside.

He tensed, preparing himself for a blow for that remark, but Krogan just huffed amusement. Snotlout let himself relax a bit, slowly, so he didn’t tip off Krogan to his tension. He couldn’t show his fear. “I wasn’t aware there was a power struggle for the chieftainship of Berk,” Krogan said slowly. Finally, a response. Snotlout could see Krogan stroking his chin, one finger against the close-cropped hair at his temple.

Snotlout scoffed and slouched, rolling his eyes even though Krogan couldn’t see it.. “You don’t know about the feud between the Jorgensons and the Haddocks?” he sneered. Krogan’s hands tensed. Snotlout smirked. They had definitely made a mistake hiding his face: Krogan wasn’t bothering to hide his body language, thinking Snotlout couldn’t see it. “Oh, right. You’re from outside the Archipelago, so you wouldn’t know.” Snotlout let his tone slip into condescension, trying to goad Krogan into responding. It didn’t work. Not like Snotlout had expected it to anyway.

Okay. Krogan wouldn’t be the first to extend a hand, but… maybe he’d extend one if he believed Snotlout was a little desperate.“If you give me some water and untie me – you know, treat me like a future chief, maybe we can do something good for both of us,” he offered, letting his voice waver a bit. Krogan had to believe that he had the upper hand.

Silence fell between them. Snotlout knew better now than to try and fill it with words; it would only hurt his cause. He wasn’t nervous, he wasn’t scared to be called out. No. Now he was in a bitter rivalry with Hiccup Haddock and trying to strike up an alliance with Hiccup’s enemy – after all, the enemy of my enemy and all that. Thank Thor for the bag over his head. It had taken far too long to get his face under control. The Hunters could remove the bag now and they’d see exactly what Snotlout wanted them to see. That assurance didn’t stop his heart from trying to burst through his chest with every second that the silence stretched.

“You expect me to believe,” Krogan said slowly, measured, “that you wish to replace Hiccup?” Shit. “The same Viking you have pledged loyalty to, pledged to protect since childhood?”  

Shit. Shit. Shit. It was a good thing they still had the bag over his head. He could feel his panic showing on his face. He was  going to have to dig deeper, say things he hadn’t believed in years, to convince Krogan. “Childhood? Loyalty?” Snotlout snapped, sounding offended. _Focus on my words, not on the way I’m moving_ , he prayed inside his head. “What loyalty? _I_ should have been the heir to Berk! Not that-- that _runt!”_

Oh, gods. Snotlout could remember saying those words years ago, truly believing them. He was shocked now that the words hurt his heart. What had changed since then? “If Hiccup had been exposed as a baby, like he should have been, he wouldn’t have lived to be a pain in my ass.” Why were his words hurting so much? Why did it hurt to think of a world without Hiccup in it? Why did it fill him with terror?

Krogan was still listening. Snotlout dug deeper. “He was born too early,” Snotlout spat, “meant to die, but Stoick bent to the whim of his wife.” He scoffed. “Sentimentality ruins good men.” It didn’t sound like him talking anymore; all he could hear was his dad’s voice. “Ruins great chiefs.” He shifted, his heart pounding in his chest. How could he have used to believe the wretched words he was spitting? How had he said them with conviction and not felt… dirty?

Snotlout couldn’t stop now, though. Even if it was hard to get the the words out. “Hiccup has always been useless, a walking disaster if nothing else. A curse on Berk!” _Ouch. Breathe._ “ _I’m_ a warrior! _I_ am more suited to being the Hope and Heir!” He was breathing hard. He hoped that Krogan was taking it as a sign of passion instead of nausea. He swallowed a couple of deep breaths. “I should have offered Challenge when I still had the chance,” his voice sounded bitter in his own ears, “but all the dragon stuff happened, and Hiccup went from Berk’s curse to her greatest hero.” He exhaled, more to get rid of the poison than to put on any sort of an act.

Krogan stared at him. Snotlout couldn’t tell if that was good or bad. He knew he’d talked too much, but that was part of the act too. This could go either way. The only way to know which way the chips would fall was to keep quiet and wait for Krogan’s reaction.

A chuckle. Not very encouraging. ”You must think me a fool to believe that you would so easily betray your friendship.”

“Friendship?” Snotlout shook his head, pushing every ounce of offense he could manage into that one word. He racked his brain. What could convince Krogan? What was it his father always said? What did Spitelout say every time Snotlout called the riders his friends? Right. “Friendship is a child’s fantasy and you’re a fool to still believe in it when you become a man. Children are the only ones naive enough to believe that friendship is enough. Everyone looks out for themselves, for Number One.” He dragged in a breath, words like acid on his tongue. “Your ‘friends’ will leave you in the dirt the first chance they get.”

“The Riders’ loyalty is a byword.” Well, at least Krogan was still using his words instead of his fists, and every minute Snotlout kept him doing that was a net gain. Even if Krogan’s voice was worryingly even.

 _“Their_ loyalty.” Snotlout didn’t have to fake the bitterness in his tone. “To them, I’m just a muttonhead. You never heard about me selling dragon eggs? Selling water in Berk’s drought?” He never thought the day would come that he would repeat that shame to anyone, let alone brag about it. “Even the Riders know it. The Snotman looks out for himself.”

“Yet you still risk your life with them. For them.”

“If you have no chance at being a leader…” Snotlout slowed down, watching Krogan’s fists clench on his knees. Interesting. “The next best thing is to be part of the elite team. Climb as high as you can get.” He shrugged. “Maybe become the leader of the Riders when Hiccup’s named Chief. Maybe,” he forced himself to sound casual, “if he gets killed… Get the chance to be chief after all.”

“He is your _kin.”_ For the first time, Krogan sounded mildly shocked. Surprising morals for someone like him.

“Dagur the Deranged killed his own father for the chieftainship,” Snotlout said smoothly. “I’m not going that far, even.”

He didn’t see the blow, had no chance to brace for it. One moment he was sitting up straight, the next he was writhing on the floor from a kick to the gut that pierced like lightning through what felt like his entire body.  The pain was blinding; he couldn’t even cry out, only gasp. Krogan’s foot withdrew, slow, measured, and he sat down as if he hadn’t just hurt Snotlout so bad that he could hardly see. “I won’t be taken for a fool.” His voice was calm, but he was glaring down at Snotlout, every line of his body tense. “I saw you risk your life for Hiccup, getting between him and that arrow.”

For a moment Snotlout couldn’t respond, gasping. He coughed frantically, fighting back the urge to throw up. He _had_ to get some air in his lungs! Finally, he managed to choke out, “That was muh… my _stupid dragon_.” Sitting up was beyond his spasming muscles, but he forced his face into a sneer. “Hiccup loves all the dragons, and all the dragons love him. Hookfang would do anything for that runt.”

“Hookfang.” Krogan’s voice was contemplative. “The Monstrous Nightmare you ride.”

“Yeah.” The wooden deck was hard against Snotlout’s cheekbone. The hessian fibers pressed into his flesh, grounding him through the agonizing cramping in his guts. Every second they didn’t hit him was a second to get his breath back. He drew in a wobbly breath, feeling like he’d taken a mace to the stomach. Shit. Krogan got him good. “The only reason Hiccup keeps me around is I’m the only rider who can handle that beast.” He dragged in a breath before his next words. Gods know he’d said them enough times with affection. Hookfang would understand. “Ornery bastard.”

“So you wouldn’t be opposed to his death?”

The shock blanked out his pain for a moment. Man, Snotlout was _really, really glad_ there was a bag over his head. It couldn’t hide the way his body stilled, but it hid the way his jaw dropped and his eyes widened. He took a deep breath, mind whirling. “I… Sure,” he blurted, not sure he could repeat what Krogan had just said.

“Would you be willing to kill him by your own hand?”

Really, he must be a bad guy: it was scary how easily he could find the right thing to say. He nodded, the words failing to leave his mouth. He cleared his throat. “But if I do it, there’s no going back. I gotta have a guarantee first. If the Riders see me do it, they’ll have a bounty on my head throughout the whole Archipelago.”

Krogan sounded almost casual. “Not if they’re already dead.”

“You’ve tried to kill them before.” Snotlout tried to let the pride in his voice slide into arrogance. “Hasn’t worked yet.”

“That’s because the armor around the riders has always seemed impenetrable. The riders protect one another: one falls, another one takes their place. All it’ll take is one of those defenses to fall.” Krogan looked too delighted at the thought. He reined himself in a moment later, turning a blank face to Snotlout. “Assuming you prove yourself.” Snotlout bit his lip. Krogan’s face turned speculative. “Unless you care for one of them…?”

 _Thank you, bag_. “I’m used to them. We had some good times. But,” something else his dad said snapped into his mind, “friends are only your friends as long as they’re useful.” He dragged in a breath. “If they’re not… they’re best disposed of.” Snotlout shrugged, finally able to breathe without it driving a spear of pain through his entire body. His midsection throbbed, but at least the ache was bearable.

Krogan ignored his words of wisdom, continuing on like Snotlout had said something else, “Who would you balk at killing? The girl?”

Snotlout snorted. “Astrid?” Images flooded into his mind: Astrid saving him, watching his back, always _there._ Dependable. Rock-solid. He dug deeper. What was it his dad said about women like Astrid? “Arrogant little bikja,” he muttered. “Needs a real man to keep her in line.”

A grunt. Probably in agreement. Snotlout tried not to react to that. “No. The other girl. With the dark hair.”

That was an easy out. Snotlout shook his head. “She’s not even from Berk. A stranger. She comes and goes. Sure she’s pretty, but she doesn’t mean anything to me.” He forced himself to add, “Pretty girls are ten a penny. Plenty more like her in the Northern Market.”

  
Krogan chuckled, his face splitting into a wide grin. He gestured to someone, and Snotlout tensed. But the Flyer who walked up to him just worked on the rope fastening the bag round his neck. A moment later, Snotlout’s head was out, and he was blinking in the dim light. Krogan was looking at him, half-smirking with the shadow of a nod. “You’re either a very good liar, or I’ve underestimated you.”

Snotlout felt safe smiling back, man to man. He took a moment to squirm around till he was sitting upright, ignoring the ache in his stomach muscles, and put on his trademark swagger. “I’m not lying. There _are_ lots of pretty girls in the Northern Market.”

A sliver of something glinted in Krogan’s eyes and Snotlout chilled. Whatever Krogan liked to do in his spare time, Snotlout was sure he didn’t want to know.

“So there no one in the team you care about. The people you have lived with, fought with,” Krogan repeated. “That’s not so easy to believe, that some fondness failed to develop for some of them. What about the other girl or her idiot brother?” Snotlout shrugged. He’d have to tell the twins their cover worked well, if he got out of this alive. “What about the fat cowardly one?”

Snotlout flinched hard. Fuck. Cold sweat broke out on his face as he realized how close he’d come to blurting _He’s not a coward._ The words were on the tip of his tongue, even as he tried to speak. “M...maybe…” _Find a cover, dammit!_ “Maybe the girl. You could, uh… give her to me to play with. If things work out.” Gods. What kind of a monster was he?

“You wouldn’t kill her.” Krogan was confirming, not really asking. Right, _this_ kind of monster.

“Not unless it was her or me.” Snotlout forced a smirk onto his face. “A Jorgenson always looks out for Number One.”

Krogan rose, his movements measured. Snotlout broke out into a cold sweat and his aching gut muscles throbbed involuntarily. _Please not in the stomach again,_ he thought desperately. Outwardly, he slitted his eyes and stuck out his chin. At least this time he’d be prepared to ride the blow when it came.

Krogan looked down like Snotlout was a Terror in a cage. He could see Snotlout’s fear, and it visibly amused him. _Bastard_.

But he didn’t kick Snotlout again. He just stared at him, long enough to be unnerving – if Snotlout hadn’t been aware it was an interrogation technique. _Thank you, Hiccup, for the interrogation training I said was stupid and useless._ True to that training, Snotlout stayed quiet and impassive, keeping his gaze on Krogan’s face with as much calm as he could muster.

After what seemed like a summer, the set of Krogan’s shoulders visibly softened and he let out a long breath. Snotlout _almost_ slumped with relief, but caught himself just in time. “All right, Rider,” Krogan nodded. “Kinslayers are scum… but you wouldn’t be the first piece of scum I’ve worked with.”

Snotlout set his jaw. After all the things he’d said, gods knew he felt like scum. Suddenly, without consciously thinking about it, he was flooded with the memory of a much younger Fishlegs reading aloud to them from some book on how to resist interrogation, geeky and dedicated and dumb and achingly sweet. ‘It says to let them do most of the talking,’ Fishlegs’ memory instructed, ‘and not volunteer information.’ Okay. Okay. He could do that. He felt a muscle in his clenched jaw twitch, but kept his expression flat, narrowed eyes fixed on Krogan’s face.

Krogan’s eyebrows shifted a fraction and he inclined his head. “Not too bad, for scum.” He turned his head and bellowed, “Svengarson!” so loud Snotlout flinched. A blond sailor – the man was far too stocky to be a Flyer – lumbered down the stairs. “Take him up on deck.”

 _Let them do most of the talking._ Snotlout held on to that as the man grabbed him by his bound upper arms and started to haul him toward the stairs. He wanted to yell ‘What are you going to do?’ with his trademark brashness, but… Maybe being silent made you look stronger. He could do that.

* * *

Snotlout squinted as he was dragged up on deck, bracing himself for the glare of daylight. Instead, he was surprised to find the sky a deep, velvety blue: the sun had set and twilight was deepening, even a couple of stars starting to come out. He struggled to remember when he’d been taken, how long he’d been out. Noon perhaps? The sun had been high in the sky, so that meant he’d been out for a good few hours.

Unobtrusively, he started taking stock of his surroundings: Hunters, huge and stocky, all over the ship. No Flyers – must be on a mission, or based off-ship. Krogan’s Singetail snoozing at the prow. Open water, as he’d suspected. Catapults and bola launchers on both sides, their metal matching the dragon-proof cages downstairs. Fully-equipped Hunter ship, then. Deck-mounted crossbows with quiverfuls of arrows as thick around as a big man’s thumb and tipped with dragon-root. Snotlout shivered: the shaft that had pierced his Hookfang’s hide was far slimmer, wielded by the lightweight Flyers, but he could too easily imagine this formidable spear-like arrow piercing his dragon partner’s chest. Thank the gods his Hooky wasn’t here.

Krogan stepped out, a pair of behemoth Hunters three paces behind, and stood facing Snotlout. Snotlout straightened, planting his feet apart. “Do you think they’ll come to rescue you now, Rider? Or wait until morning?”

“The name,” Snotlout let his mouth twist into a sneer, “is Jorgenson.” About time he started asserting himself – measured, but assertive. He hoped his judgment was good.

“Jorgenson the Kinslayer.” Krogan narrowed his eyes and stood back with his weight on one leg, looking at Snotlout like a thrall at a slave market.

“A little respect.” Snotlout set his shoulders, now thoroughly in character, and looked Krogan dead in the eye. “Not a bad title, but I’ll take it when I earn it.”

“You’ll earn it soon enough.”

“With my hands tied behind my back?” Snotlout let his stare flicker and let out a measured laugh of derision. “I’m good, but even I’m not that good.”

“I’m not the kind of fool who unties a traitor before it becomes necessary,” Krogan said smoothly. Snotlout just looked at him, bored. “The Riders will come for you. They’re probably on their way even now.”

Snotlout debated interjecting something, since Krogan was clearly waiting for him to speak. All the more reason to shut up, then. He remained silent, not moving, until it became clear that Krogan wouldn’t talk unless Snotlout did. Finally, he rolled his eyes, just a fraction, not too much. “Yeah, and?”

Satisfaction flooded him at seeing Krogan’s hands curl into fists. He let his eyes flicker down to show Krogan he had seen it, then glanced away before he risked provoking the man too much. His stomach still ached from that kick, and he needed to keep his facilities sharp. That was the right word, wasn’t it?

“When they arrive,” Krogan said, “I’ll give you a chance to prove yourself. You can fight them with us.”

Snotlout stared, then huffed. “Should have known you couldn’t think of anything more creative than that.”

“I think,” Krogan took a step closer, looming over Snotlout, “you’ll find that toying with me isn’t the smartest idea.”

“It would be smarter,” Snotlout said, still blasé, “to have me on deck, as bait. Pretending to be captive. Untie me, give me a weapon, like you said. Let them get close enough,” his face twisted, “to _‘save’_ me.” Snotlout leveled Krogan with flat, dead eyes. “Then I’ll _show_ you kinslaying.”

Krogan almost, _almost_ flinched. Snotlout could see it in the way he stilled and cleared his throat.

What Krogan would have said, they never found out, because a puttering sound, far away on the darkening horizon, dropped into the silence between them.

“Ready the catapults!” Krogan barked as the chill of _Meatlug’s wings_ spilled down Snotlout’s insides. The Hunters’ boots thundered on the decking as they jogged to their positions, almost drowning out the Gronckle-hum. But it wasn’t loud enough to mask the absence of the sounds Snotlout was _used_ to hearing: the unmistakable shriek of a Night Fury, the whirring of a Zippleback’s wings, the distinctive whoosh of a Nadder cutting through the air. _The soft burst of Hookfang flaming up…_ His heart clenched for a moment at the memory of his Hooky falling like a dead thing.

But as Snotlout listened more carefully, he could tell that it wasn’t just Hookfang who hadn’t come. _None_ of the Riders was here. This was just Fishlegs and Meatlug, come to rescue him. Alone.

_Just when you think things can’t get any worse..._

He didn’t have to fake his eyeroll. “It’s just one of them on a suicide mission,” he huffed. “Soft-hearted idiot.” And he _loved_ that soft heart, that dumb geeky sensitive muttonhead, coming out alone on a rescue mission, what was he _thinking,_ if Fishlegs got himself killed Snotlout would never forgive him--

No. He wouldn’t let Fishlegs be killed. He’d die first. Not an ideal outcome, but hey. Priorities.

“Get these ropes off me,” Snotlout rapped out. “I need my arms working.”

Krogan looked pointedly down at him, emphasizing their difference in height. One corner of his mouth twitched. “Giving orders already?”

“Either you want me to prove myself,” Snotlout spat, “or you don’t. If you do, get these things the fuck off me!” The hum of Meatlug’s wings was closer now. Snotlout let his impatience bleed into his tone. “Or just cut my damn head off now and get it over with! That would work too! Save a lot of _fucking time!”_

That startled a laugh out of Krogan. He gestured to one of his men, who came round behind Snotlout. A moment later, Snotlout’s arms were free. He held back a groan, rolling his stiff shoulders and shaking the circulation back into his arms. Still clenching and unclenching his fists, he said, “Have them stand next to me on either side, so he can’t see I’m untied, and give me a weapon.”

Krogan opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded to his men to do as Snotlout asked. The dot on the horizon had resolved into the form of a Gronckle and a rider. It was almost completely night now, but Gronckles weren’t built for stealth, and Fishlegs, from what Snotlout could see, was coming in half-cocked without a plan. If he’d taken the time to turn into Thor, it might have even worked, too, but knowing the dumb heroic idiot, he hadn’t. Snotlout shook his head. Just like Fishlegs to come charging in, throwing his life away – and Meatlug’s, too – because he felt guilty that Snotlout hadn’t been 100% after chasing around after him in the caves.

The men were still holding his arms when a man put a small dagger into Snotlout’s hand. “What am I supposed to use this for?” He remembered Thor Bonecrusher using almost the exact same words. “A toothpick?”

“It’s all you get, Rider. A Viking should be able to handle any weapon. Unless you’re not a real Viking?”

Snotlout just gave Krogan a hard stare, then half-rolled his eyes and looked away, shaking his head. Dismissing Krogan as if he was beneath his notice, he focused up onto where the Gronckle was coming within range of the crossbows. He carefully hid the chill of fear at the thought of one of those lethal spears hitting Fishlegs. Instead, he shifted position, carefully relaxed. “I’m not diving for him,” he said dryly. “Tell those muttonheads of yours to stand down and let him land on the ship.”

A hand gripped Snotlout's hair and he cried out. Krogan was in his face, eyes like flint. “Don’t think you can order me around, Rider,” he hissed.

“That’ll be _Chief Jorgenson_ to you,” Snotlout snapped back in a harsh whisper, Krogan’s hand still fisted in the roots of his hair hard enough that he could feel individual strands popping out. Although his eyes were tearing up with pain, Snotlout forced a grin onto his face. “This looks good. Keep it up till he lands.”

He could just catch a flicker of involuntary, grudging respect in Krogan’s eyes before the hunter turned away, never relaxing his iron grip. He pulled out a sword and held it to Snotlout’s neck. “Easy on the merchandise,” Snotlout grunted. “Oh, and tell those idiots of yours not to panic when I yell.”

“What?”

“GET BACK, FISHLEGS! IT’S A TRAP!”

Krogan’s fist let go of Snotlout’s hair for a moment before yanking hard again. “What the Hel, rider--!”

“It’s what I’d say!” Snotlout hissed. “I _told_ you to warn your trigger-happy muttonheads not to get antsy! Not to mention their muttonhead leader!”

Krogan’s fingers twisted in Snotlout’s hair hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. “Gods, I hope you turn out to be double-crossing me. I want to hear you scream.”

The promise in the words would have scared Snotlout. Terrified him. If he hadn’t had other things to worry about, namely Fishlegs ignoring his warning and blundering straight in. This was going to Hel in a handbasket in a hurry. The Hunters were standing at their crossbows, mounted on the deck of the ship, each loaded with one of those damned arrows that were practically spears. It didn’t matter that Meatlug was immune to dragon-root – she wasn’t immune to having her body pierced with an iron rod, and neither was Fishlegs. Snotlout could just see his face now, his soft kind geeky half-smile of delighted relief. “Snotlout!” Fishlegs yelled.

“GET BACK!” Snotlout screamed again, glaring at Krogan before looking back up at Fishlegs. Gods, Snotlout was in love with the idiot, but if Krogan didn’t kill him, Snotlout was going to. _Oh great, yeah, call my name, advertise your presence even more. That is really what an enemy lying in wait desperately needs. Why not bring a torch to light up your location so they don’t waste ammunition?_

 _All wrong all wrong all wrong **all wrong!**_ Damn it, what was Snotlout supposed to do now? He had what he’d been angling for – himself free and armed – except he wasn’t really free, and he wasn’t really armed, and _Fishlegs had come alone._ The six of them and five dragons – even four, if Hookfang couldn’t fight yet – could take these guys. But even armed and untied, Snotlout knew he, Meatlug and Fishlegs were badly outmatched on a boat full of – he went over his initial head-count – yep, a good dozen Hunters all armed with long-range crossbows and as big as Stoick the Vast, plus a sleeping Singetail. Gods, what he wouldn’t give for Stoick to be here right now. Or Gobber. Hel, he’d even settle for Bucket.

“Or you know what, Fishface,” Snotlout muttered under his breath, letting his fear fuel his act, “waiting for the fucking team instead of going off alone like some gung-ho idiot would have been fine by me.” Fishlegs was close now, yelling Snotlout’s name and for the Hunters to give up. _Yeah, they’re gonna listen to you._ Just seeing Fishlegs’ adorable geeky face should have made Snotlout’s heart flutter. He should have been planning their first kiss, not their first freaking Kiss of Death. “But when do things ever go my way?” he muttered.

With a sigh, Snotlout grabbed Krogan’s arm, the one fisted in his hair, and flipped the taller man right over him, bringing his knife-arm around to press against Krogan’s throat. “DROP YOUR WEAPONS OR HE DIES!” he bellowed at the Hunters. “NOW!”

“Snotlout!” came Fishlegs’ joyful cry from above, but Snotlout couldn’t afford to look away from the armed men surrounding them as he heard the thump of Meatlug setting down on the deck. “Quick, mount up!” Fishlegs urged. Krogan was practically vibrating with rage in Snotlout’s hold…

...no, wait. Was that _laughter?_

“Go on,” Krogan snickered. “Do it.”

Snotlout pulled the blade closer to Krogan’s neck. He wouldn’t kill another man in cold blood, but he could at least push the sharp edge close enough to...

...to…

Something wasn’t right. The Hunters still had their crossbows leveled, smirking in various degrees of amusement. Some of them openly guffawed.

Krogan lifted his hand to the blade of the dagger and squeezed it with all his might. His hand should have been cut open, but he didn’t seem to be feeling any pain. Slowly, he opened his intact palm and held it up in front of Snotlout’s face. “You didn’t seriously think I’d give you a _sharp_ dagger, did you?”

Laughter rang out around them. Snotlout’s gaze flickered from the archers to Fishlegs, still perched on Meatlug. He _could_ still grab Krogan and threaten to snap his neck… but he knew how fast a crossbow could fire. Even a Gronckle’s hide couldn’t withstand that.

Fishlegs raised his hands in surrender, and Snotlout slowly followed suit.


	7. Hold Me, But Not Too Tight

Taciturn and prudent, and in war daring,

should a king's children be;

joyous and liberal every one should be

until their hour of death.

* * *

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate this, Fishface,” Snotlout whispered. “I’d just always hoped we’d grow old together before we, you know, _die_ together.”

“Togeth--” Fishlegs’ breath caught in his throat. Snotlout could hear his shy, delighted smile in his voice. “You--uh--you mean…”

They were tied with their hands behind them, standing back-to-back against a slim mast, further cocooned together in what felt like yards of rope. At the other end of the ship, near the tiller, Krogan was giving instructions to his crew. Snotlout could feel Fishlegs’ bound hands warm against his, and the ropes tightened and loosened in turn with his rapid breathing. Meatlug’s chest rose and fell in her bonds not far from them. Her chains weren’t dragon-proof, but she had no way to produce fire, a heavy muzzle locked around her face. She lay unhappily where she had landed, soft eyes fixed on them both. “Yeah, I mean exactly what you think I mean, Fishface,” Snotlout grumbled. “What better time to make a fool of yourself than before you die?” He turned his head to the side and let his voice drop even lower, even though there was no chance of being heard with the blustering of the wind. He’d tried to hear Krogan’s instructions as he bellowed at the top of his voice to the Hunters and couldn’t make out a word. “I’m in love with you, you muttonhead. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, which by the looks of it is going to be the entire next six and a half minutes.”

“It won’t,” Fishlegs quavered in what Snotlout imagined he thought was a bracing tone. “They’ll come for us.” His big, warm hands found Snotlout’s and squeezed them.

Snotlout sighed. This would have been so wonderful in another setting. But being tied up and held hostage kind of ruined the romantic mood. “Not casting doubt on your heroics, Fishface, but why exactly are you here on your own? They finally decide to cut me loose?”

Fishlegs flinched. “Don’t say that! We were all worried sick about you! But Hookfang--”

“Oh gods!” Snotlout couldn’t believe he’d forgotten as terror surged up into his throat. “How’s my Hooky? Is he okay? Did you make him the antidote?”

“We had some in stock,” Fishlegs replied. Snotlout could feel him reaching back with his bound wrists, his hands closing completely around Snotlout’s and squeezing. It was warm. Sincere. “We got him right back and gave it to him. Stoker Class dragons metabolize the antidote faster than any other br--”

“Boring, Fishf--” Snotlout caught himself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.” If he was going to die in the next five minutes, he might as well spend them being at least halfway decent. “I’m just,” it was hard to say, but not as hard as he’d imagined, “I’m just worried about Hookfang. How is he? How is he feeling? The poison, how did it affect him?”

“We gave him the antidote right away. It counteracted the dragon-root at once.” Fishlegs let out a sigh. “Honest, he should be completely fine by now. He was already feeling better when I left. Opened his eyes and flamed and everything.”

“Oh, thank Thor.” Snotlout felt his muscles go weak with relief. Fishlegs’ thumb rubbed the back of his hand. But then Snotlout tensed again. “And the wound? From the arrow? It got him pretty bad.”

“It was really okay. He’s got a strong build. We got it out, patched him up. It’s gonna heal clean.”

“You’re sure.” Snotlout trusted Fishlegs’ abilities, but this was Hookfang they were talking about.

“Yeah. I’m sure, Snotlout.” Fishlegs leaned back, pressing closer to Snotlout in spite of the mast between them. “I promise. He didn’t lose too much blood, he looked okay. He kind of panicked when he saw you weren’t there. Wanted to come after you.”

Snotlout grimaced. That was twice in two nights he’d made Hookfang scared to lose him… and this time it might be permanent. “I’m surprised he didn’t. You can’t stop him when his mind’s made up.”

Fishlegs was still speaking. “He would have. But he still needed to rest, and the others were arguing about what the best plan was, and… well… I...” Snotlout couldn’t see Fishlegs’ face, but the warm back against his own heaved with a sigh, and he could imagine him blushing. “I… couldn’t wait for them to come up with a plan.”

“So you just came over here half-cocked.” Snotlout couldn’t keep the grin from his voice.

“Yeah,” Fishlegs breathed.

“To save me.”

“Uh… I guess so.”

It was Snotlout’s turn to squeeze Fishlegs’ hands. “Do you think they’ll let me kiss you before we die?”

“We’re _not going to die!”_ Fishlegs hissed. “Hiccup’s gonna find us and save us, and--”

“Shh!” Snotlout snapped. Krogan was coming over. Meatlug let out a low growl.

“You really put on a good show, Rider,” were the first words out of Krogan’s mouth.

Snotlout blinked. “Uh, thanks, I guess?”

“You’re good. It would almost have been worth it to have you with us. Good liar. Good actor.” Krogan’s face hardened. “You remember my promise.”

Why did Snotlout get the feeling he was suddenly channeling Hiccup? “Uh, I get absent-minded sometimes… Comes with all the traveling, you know…”

Krogan didn’t lash out. He was very measured. “I said,” he stepped closer, “that I hoped you were double-crossing us, because I wanted to hear you scream.”

“No!” Fishlegs yelled. His hands clenched around Snotlout’s, beneath the ropes where no-one could see. “Don’t you dare!”

Snotlout sighed. “Forgive him,” he smiled urbanely. “He’s always been excitable.”

And that made Krogan smile. “Just for that, I’ll let you keep your tongue.”

Fishlegs gulped. Loudly. “Don’t show weakness, Fishface,” Snotlout let his voice drop into a bored drawl. “That was your instructions, remember? You read that to us out of your geeky books.”

Krogan’s hand darted out and fisted in Snotlout’s hair again. What was it with the hair, anyway? “You tried to give me orders,” he said smoothly.

“Is that any excuse for ruining my coiffure?”

Krogan’s face broke into a smile. Then he let go of Snotlout’s hair, took a step back, and slapped him so hard his teeth rattled.

Snotlout rode the blow. He’d been expecting it; Fishlegs was the one to cry out. Meatlug growled and shifted in her bonds, but there was nothing she could do. Snotlout just met Krogan’s eyes. He wasn’t saying anything. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Krogan slapped him again, on the same side of his face. His fingers caught Snotlout’s ear and his head rang. Fishlegs’ hands tightened around Snotlout’s, warm, like a lifeline. He was still yelling _no don’t_ or something ridiculous like that.

Krogan closed his fist and swung at Snotlout, a right cross that sent lightning-bolts through his cheekbone to his brain. Snotlout let out a grunt, feeling sweat break out on his face. That one had _hurt._ His cheek was starting to swell up, and this time Hiccup wasn’t there to bring him ice. He clutched onto Fishlegs’ hands, taking comfort in the warm grip, willing himself to stay strong. His breath was coming in short, rapid gasps and he was shaking a bit, but Snotlout drew himself up, leveling Krogan with a steady stare he knew would be interpreted as insolence.

“You know,” Krogan said, low and even, “there’s another rider here, if you’re not going to be entertaining.”

“Yes! Come around here!” Fishlegs yelled, but Snotlout couldn’t hear him through the freezing ice sheeting down him and blanking his mind with terror. He would _not_ let Krogan lay a finger on Fishlegs.

“Shut the Hel up, Fishface!” Snotlout hissed. Too bad Fish wasn’t Thor Bonecrusher right now. Where was hypnosis when you needed it? Thor would already be out of these ropes.

...Thor Bonecrusher would _never_ offer himself up for a beating instead of someone he cared about. Bonecrusher only cared about himself. He didn’t have a fraction of Fishlegs’ kindness and compassion, of his real courage and strength of heart.

“You can hit me!” Fishlegs cried out to Krogan. “I’m a dragon rider too! Just leave Snotlout alone!”

Listening to Fishlegs, Snotlout saw everything clearly for what seemed like the first time. Yeah, Bonecrusher’s confidence had been attractive, but Fishlegs was a better person than Bonecrusher would ever be. Thor Bonecrusher had just used Snotlout. He’d selfishly let him fall into the ocean and gone chasing his own glory. Bonecrusher didn’t care if Snotlout got beat up. Thor Bonecrusher wouldn’t be squeezing Snotlout’s hands in a death-grip, wouldn’t be desperately yelling for Krogan to hurt him just to protect Snotlout. Snotlout could live without Thor Bonecrusher. But Fishlegs, the dumb geeky loving idiot who’d come to rescue Snotlout on his equally dumb geeky loving Gronckle… Well… Snotlout would die before letting anyone hurt him.

Fishlegs was still yelling. “Pick on someone your own size!”

And everything clicked into place.

Snotlout gaped exaggeratedly. “Your own size? What am I, a toddler?”

Krogan snorted a surprised laugh. “He knows you’re small, Rider.”

“Yeah, Krogan,” Snotlout sneered. “You keep telling yourself that.” Luckily, his tongue hadn’t swelled up enough to stop him speaking. “You’re the small one. Like a little kid with a short attention span. Switching to another Viking because you couldn’t get the best of me.”

Krogan stilled. “What did you say?”

Snotlout’s whole head was throbbing, but the surge of strength that came with urgency blew away his pain. “I outlasted you,” he smirked.

Fishlegs’ grip on Snotlout’s hands went slack. “Snotlout, what are you doing?!”

Snotlout forced a chuckle. “I’m telling this muttonhead the truth, that’s all - I outlasted him.” The awful things Krogan had made him say about Hiccup, the old self he’d forced him to remember, all of it came out in the sheer contempt in Snotlout’s tone. He pushed his self-disgust onto his face, directing it outward at the seething man in front of him. “You said you wanted to make me scream, made me think you were a big bad Viking. But you threw a lousy couple punches and got tired.” He let his tone drop. “Chickened out. Couldn’t see it through like a man.”

Snotlout took immense satisfaction in the feral glint in Krogan’s eyes just before he swung an uppercut that whacked Snotlout’s head against the pole behind him and made him see stars. “No!” Fishlegs screamed. From beyond him, Meatlug was roaring through her muzzle. Snotlout could feel Fishlegs’ hands tighten around his, and he curled his fingers around Fishlegs’ warm hands as much as he could, like a lifeline, as Krogan punched him in the face again. Snotlout’s vision whited out and his head lolled back for a moment against Fishlegs’ shoulder. Fishlegs was still screaming, but it sounded far away. He still had Snotlout’s hands in a death-grip, twisting and writhing in his bonds, the ropes that bound them together tightening and loosening around Snotlout. It hurt, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to let Fishlegs get hurt for his sake.

Snotlout spat out blood and grinned, wide and half-crazed. “How’s it feel to be outmatched, Krogan? You can’t break me.”

Krogan smashed a fist into his ribcage, his unflappable cool finally broken. Snotlout’s ribs were spikes driving into his sides; if the ropes weren't so thick, the blow might have killed him. He felt floaty, not quite there. The only thing real was the warmth of Fishlegs’ hands under his, and he clutched desperately at them as Krogan hit him again. He knew on some level that he was sweating and shaking and gasping, but he was riding high on a wave of power, knowing he was standing between Krogan and Fishlegs, and that made it all worth it.

Another blow to his ribcage, then another. Fishlegs was screaming and sobbing, and Snotlout wondered how he hadn’t burst out of the ropes yet. Maybe because he was tied to Snotlout, and he couldn’t get out of them without crushing him?

After what seemed like an eternity, the beating paused. Snotlout’s head was swimming. Everything seemed unreal except the warm hands around his, and the man in front of him. With a final surge of energy, Snotlout bared bloody teeth and laughed in Krogan’s face. “That all you got?”

As Krogan roared and punched him in the face for the last time, Snotlout could have sworn he saw the night move.

* * *

 

The small hands in his went limp and Fishlegs’ vision blanked out with terror.

He’d thought there could be nothing worse, nothing, than hearing Krogan’s fists battering at Snotlout, hearing the self-sacrificing idiot goading Krogan when he’d been about to start in on Fishlegs. Nothing worse than knowing that the sounds of flesh striking flesh, the impacts that echoed through him and Snotlout’s grunts each time he was struck were for him, to protect him. He could feel the blows connect with Snotlout’s body, the pole they were tied to vibrating with each hit, feel the ropes around them contracting and expanding with Snotlout’s winces of pain and his fast, shallow breathing. Several times, Snotlout’s head lolled back against Fishlegs’ shoulder, and Fishlegs would have given everything he had to hold him, to be able to protect him, to do something, anything! But all he could do was keep yelling at Krogan to pick on him instead. His princess had been screaming behind them, but she couldn’t do anything, and neither could he, and Fishlegs yelled out helplessly and begged…

...But Snotlout had just kept taunting Krogan, doing everything in his power to keep him angry and focused on him, never letting him so much as think about turning his attention on Fishlegs.

Yeah. Fishlegs had thought that was the worst thing. But nothing could have been as terrifying as when Snotlout’s hands went limp in Fishlegs’ hold and his legs buckled, the ropes tightening around them as Snotlout slumped.

“Snotlout!” Fishlegs yelled. There was no response. “Wake up! Can you hear me?” Fishlegs wrenched at his bonds, his heart slamming in his chest. “Snotlout!”

“You wouldn’t be so worried about him if you’d heard what he said,” Krogan smirked. Snotlout’s body jerked against Fishlegs’ back as Krogan gave him a final kick. Krogan paced around to face Fishlegs.

“It doesn’t matter what he said!” Fishlegs yelled over the splashing of the waves, which were getting choppier, the boat rocking. “Just leave him alone!”

“He told me about the feud between the Jorgensons and the Haddocks. He told me how he was planning to take over from Hiccup as Hope and Heir. Possibly by assassinating him to do it.”

“And you bought it? I thought you were the smart one!” came a wonderfully familiar voice, seemingly out of the dark itself. “Plasma blast, bud!”

The night seemed to ripple like a curtain as Toothless opened his black wings. It was like taking off a mantle that had made him invisible. Fishlegs had never been so glad to see anyone in his life.

Krogan froze for a split-second, and that second was his undoing. The Riders poured in, seemingly from every direction at once. Toothless and Stormfly shot out the crossbows with surgical precision, while Barf and Belch snapped up Hunters in their teeth, stifling their cries, and tossed them into the water - had that been the source of the splashing earlier? Astrid leapt off Stormfly’s back, swinging her axe at a Hunter’s shield before Stormfly blasted the deck out from under his feet, and ran to Meatlug, hacking and slashing at her chains.

Suddenly, the view was blocked. Fishlegs blinked. In his face was the top of Ruffnut’s head. She was bent to him, using her dagger to slice through his bonds. Behind him, he heard Tuffnut’s gasp as - no doubt - he saw what Krogan had done to Snotlout. “Get my hands!” Fishlegs begged.

“Yeah, okay,” Tuffnut said. He sounded like he was choking back tears.

“Just get Snotlout’s!” Ruffnut grated as the cocoon of thick rope fell. “I’ll do Fishlegs!” Urgently, she grabbed Fishlegs’ shoulders and turned him to face the pole so she could untie his hands.

Fishlegs’ breath caught: Snotlout was lying on the deck, unconscious, as Tuffnut carefully slid his dagger into the ropes binding his wrists. A quick upward slash and the ropes parted, just as Fishlegs felt his own arms released. He rolled his shoulders and groaned in relief as he dropped to his knees.

“What did they do to him?” Tuffnut muttered, with no trace of his usual histrionics.

“They beat the crap out of him, what’s it look like they did to him?” snapped Ruffnut.

Her assessment, while crude, was accurate: Snotlout’s face was swollen, bright red blood coating his lips and trickling out the corner of his mouth. “Oh, Snotlout,” Fishlegs whispered, reaching out and wondering how best to carry him. Explosions and dragon-blasts rocked the ship all around, mingled with yells of Hunters jumping into the sea. The roar of Krogan’s Singetail reverberated through the wood. Fishlegs’ head snapped around, but Krogan was clearly mounting up not to fight, but to retreat. Just in case he had any other ideas, Astrid and Stormfly had him cornered, Stormfly shooting off magnesium blasts and throwing spines to chase him off.

“Fish!” Hiccup yelled. “Ruff, Tuff! Get out, now! This ship is going down!”

Still crouched protectively over Snotlout, Fishlegs raised his head to see that Meatlug had burned a hole in the upper deck with her lava blast, and Barf and Belch were filling the hold with gas to finish the job. Ruff and Tuff leapt up from where they were crouched next to him, jogging over to their dragon. “You mean going UP!” cried Tuffnut.

Fishlegs slipped his arms carefully underneath Snotlout and stood. Meatlug was by his side already. He laid Snotlout carefully across Meatlug’s neck as he clambered onto her back, then gently lifted Snotlout back into his arms, careful not to jar his injuries. Cradling Snotlout with his head supported against Fishlegs’ shoulder, Fishlegs gripped onto the saddle with his knees. “Easy, Meatlug,” he cautioned, but he needn’t have: his princess took off light as a butterfly. As they put distance between themselves and the ship, Belch did the honors, sparking into the gas-filled hold.

There was a tremendous explosion, clouds of black smoke belching into the sky. “FIRE IN THE HOLE!” yelled Tuffnut. The shockwave rocked Meatlug; Fishlegs rode the turbulence, careful to protect his unconscious burden. Behind him, he could see Krogan’s disappearing figure on his Singetail. That dragon hadn’t escaped when the trouble started: they’d waited for Krogan so the pair could escape together. For whatever reason, impossible as it might seem, Krogan must have done something to earn the Singetail’s loyalty.

But that wasn’t their concern. Not now. “Smoothly now, girl,” Fishlegs cautioned Meatlug unnecessarily, hitching Snotlout more securely into his arms as the others came up to flank them and they headed home.

* * *

“Huh!” Snotlout jerked awake. How could he have let himself pass out? “Don’t hurt him!” he cried.

“Shh-shh,” Fishlegs’ warm voice soothed. “It’s okay. It’s okay. You’re safe. We’re home on the Edge. They came for us.”

He blinked. No Krogan. No ropes.

He was sitting half-upright in his bed, in his own hut at the Edge. Behind him was a soft surface with a gentle rise and fall, big hands bracketing him. As he blinked again, one of those big hands gently brushed the hair off his face. Fishlegs. “Huh…” he whispered.

“You self-sacrificing idiot.” Astrid suddenly appeared in his line of sight and shoved a mug of water into his face. “If you ever do that again, I’ll kill you myself, you _Jorgenson.”_   She said it like an insult.

Snotlout chuckled. It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would. Everything seemed kind of fuzzy. “Good to see you too, Ast…” He broke off, coughing, then moaned as the movement hurt his ribs.

“No, no, no, no, no. Don’t talk.” Fishlegs pulled him closer, supporting his back and wrapping a gentle arm around his shoulder. “Easy.” His voice was hoarse with emotion. It made Snotlout shiver. He leaned back against the warm, soft surface of Fishlegs’ body, tucking his head into the undercurve of Fishlegs’ neck. Fishlegs held the mug firmly, letting Snotlout drink. The bitter taste in his mouth told him that Fishlegs had given him one of his lousy-tasting pain potions, probably while he was… “Did you drug me when I was unconscious and defenseless?”

Astrid rolled her eyes. “How can you stand him?” she said to Fishlegs. The soft surface under Snotlout moved in a chuckle and he turned his head sideways. It hurt, but it felt so good to be held. He _totally was not_   snuggling. Okay, maybe a little bit.

“I’m going back on patrol and tell Hiccup you’re awake,” Astrid announced, standing. “Good to see you’re okay.” She grinned. “There’s someone here who wants to see you. We couldn’t keep him in here, he kept flaming up.” As she walked to the door, she called, “Come on in!” and was almost bowled over by an eager Monstrous Nightmare bounding in like a hatchling.

For a moment, Snotlout was dizzy from sheer relief. “Hooky!” He was okay, only a bandage on his side to show where he’d been shot, but his eyes were bright as ever as he wiggled and stepped up and down in place, purring, clearly hesitant to touch Snotlout so hurt. “Hey, Fangster,” Snotlout crooned. “C’mere!”

Fishlegs made a disapproving sound as Snotlout shifted in his hold and held out his arms to Hookfang. “Careful!” he snapped at Hookfang, who narrowed his eyes at Fishlegs, but was exceedingly gentle as he nuzzled Snotlout.

“There you are! You had me worried sick!” Snotlout petted Hookfang everywhere he could reach, examining him and insisting on checking out his wound. Hookfang rumbled and rolled his eyes, but Snotlout knew from the purr he was trying so hard to hide that he secretly liked being fussed over. “You big brave boy, you scared me half to death,” he couldn’t help whispering in Hookfang’s ear. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, you hear me? Ever!”

Hookfang tilted his head and licked Snotlout’s bruised face and gave him a look that made Snotlout shiver, for he could see in the big yellow eyes that the dragon had been scared as well. “I’m sorry, Hooky,” he said seriously. “I had to.”

“You did not,” Fishlegs said sternly from behind him. Hookfang snorted agreement. “You didn’t have to take it all on yourself.”

Hookfang rolled his eyes. _See what I have to put up with?_

Fishlegs was still lecturing. “You could have stopped drawing his attention to you, making him hit you instead of me. I saw what you did.” Hookfang growled. “And I never want you to do that again, do you hear?” Hookfang rolled his eyes as if to say _Good luck enforcing that,_  then blew out steam from his nostrils.

“Would you quit agreeing with him?!” snapped Snotlout to Hookfang.

Hookfang tilted his head consideringly. Then he shook it. _No._

“Snotlout.” Fishlegs’ hands were gentle as they stroked his face. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it. But you can’t… You can’t put yourself between me and danger like that.”

Snotlout sighed, leaning back into Fishlegs’ soft, warm arms, and tilted himself sideways so his head rested in the crook of Fishlegs’ elbow and he could look up at him. “Yeah, yeah.” His eyes flickered to Fishlegs’ lips. “You know what I’d like to put myself between?”

Fishlegs blushed. Hookfang narrowed his eyes, huffed and turned tail, retreating into a corner and putting his head under his wing. Snotlout watched him affectionately, crazy thoughts about _wingman_ flitting through his head. His heart began to pound and he felt his face heat as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. “You gonna be shy and--”

His breath caught in his throat as Fishlegs brushed his lips against, not his mouth, but his cheek. “That wasn’t what I meant,” Snotlout complained.

As close as he was, Snotlout could feel Fishlegs’ chest expand and contract in a sigh. He pulled away slightly, not wanting to let go but curious to see Fishlegs’ face. His eyes widened. Fishlegs’ eyes were damp and he didn’t seem at all into this. “I thought this was gonna be a romantic moment,” Snotlout whined, hoping to cheer him up. “Why are you being boring?”

Fishlegs drew in a shuddering breath. “When Krogan told Hiccup what you’d said to him, I realized you’d been working your own strategy. I had to rush in and ruin it.”

“Hey, Fishface, it’s because you cared--”

“No, Snotlout.” Fishlegs interrupted him. He swallowed. “I let my,” he took a deep breath, “my feelings for you make me forget what I should have remembered. That you’re my teammate and I trust you to take care of yourself, not some helpless damsel in distress who needs rescuing.”

“I liked it, Fishlegs!”

“You liked being beaten to Hel and back because I ruined your plan?”

“You didn’t…” Snotlout had to pant. It hurt to talk; moving his jaw hurt. It was okay when he didn’t move so much. “It was my fault you were there in the first place.”

“What?!” Fishlegs’s jaw dropped and he went a little pale. “If I’d been captured in battle, would you be sitting here saying it was my fault?!”

“It was because I’d just had a dumb breakdown--”

“No, Snotlout. It wasn’t dumb. Anyone can have a breakdown. I didn’t think it through. I shouldn’t have treated you like you were helpless.”

“But I collapsed like a sack of flour!”

“And rode into battle the minute you woke up and mobilized the Nightmares and saved Hiccup’s life.”

“Don’t make it sound like more than it is.”

“Shh, Snotlout, listen.” Fishlegs’ gentle hold tightened just a fraction. “I ruined your plan because I was worried about you. If I’d waited for the others, he wouldn’t have captured us and he wouldn’t have… done what he did to you. I don’t want you hurt. Not now, not ever. Not for me, not for anyone.”

“You say the sweetest things, dork. Now will you please kiss me before I fall asleep?”

“Snotlout, I’m saying something important here!”

“That you’re not gonna mess up my plans again?”

“That I trust you! Nothing that happened in the caves changed that. Do you understand?”

Snotlout looked up at Fishlegs, chilled that everyone knew his secret now. “But the--the others…”

“They trust you too. You’ve always had our backs. Always.” Fishlegs’ lips brushed softly against Snotlout’s cheek, then his mouth. “You’ve always put yourself in danger for us.”

Snotlout returned the little smooch, breaking into a grin that really hurt his bruised face. “Ow.”

“Please take it easy?” Fishlegs said softly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

"And you'll kiss me again?"

"I promise."

Snotlout smiled, a little smaller than before. He really did want to fall asleep. But there was one thing he had to tell Fishlegs, and it couldn’t wait. “Don’t be down on yourself,” he said. It didn’t hurt so much if he didn’t open his jaw as he spoke. “You were with me.”

“What?” Fishlegs murmured into his hair.

“You--You were with me. When Krogan had me. I remembered what you said. Back when we were kids, when we were training.” Snotlout forced a smile onto his face. “All the dumb geeky things you said. I always remember the things you say, Fishface.” He met Fishlegs’ eyes and the softness in them made him shiver. “I listened to you. What you said. You saved me.”

Fishlegs kissed his temple softly. “You saved yourself. You were a hero, Snotlout.”

The words sent a shiver through him. “I’m not a hero. I’m just a muttonhead.”

Fishlegs let out a little cry, like someone had hurt him. “Don’t.” He stroked Snotlout’s face. For the first time, Snotlout realized his face was covered in some sort of salve, and there were wrappings around his ribs. _Huh. They patched me up._ “...drew his anger onto yourself, Snotlout. So he wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Hey, I had to make up for all the crap I said to you somehow.”

Snotlout saw the color drain from Fishlegs’ face. “What?! Did you do that because… because I didn’t accept your apology?!”

“No,” Snotlout sighed. “Shoulda known you couldn’t take a joke.” It was painful to talk, but if he didn’t get this out, gods knew how long it would fester in Fishlegs’ geeky brain. “I just meant… I never meant to hurt your feelings, Fishface.”

“I know,” said Fishlegs, brushing a hand over Snotlout’s hair. “I know now. I promise.” His face grew stern. “I’ll believe it if you promise not to deny what you are. You’re a hero, and Hiccup knows too, and you can’t deny it.”

The word ‘Hiccup’ made Snotlout chill. “Hiccup wouldn’t think I was a hero if he knew what I said about him.”

“He knows. Krogan told him. He knows it was strategy.” Fishlegs stroked his hair some more, his face softening. “Did you think Krogan would miss the chance to drive a wedge between us, or try to? Of course he told Hiccup. And Hiccup laughed in his face.” Fishlegs gave him a soft, loving smile that just might be the most beautiful thing Snotlout had ever seen. “Hiccup _trusts you,_ Snotlout. He knows you’d never let us down. And so do I.”

Snotlout felt himself blush. That hurt a bit too, making his temple and jaw throb. “You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”

“B-buh? Uh--er...” Fishlegs speechless was a thing of beauty. Snotlout couldn’t help giggling, to Hel with the pain, at the sight of him blushing beyond pink and into bright red. “Buh, uh, boyfriend?”

Snotlout tucked the back of his head more securely into the crook of Fishlegs’ arm - he wasn’t sure whether it was chest or collarbone, from this angle - and reached up to palm Fishlegs' cheek. “Got that right.” Too much movement, too soon. “Ow.”

Fishlegs’ face crumpled as he hitched Snotlout into a more comfortable position in his arms. “Maybe we _should_   have a thing - some kind of code - for emergency situations, where you hypnotize me and bring out…”

With a chill, Snotlout remembered what he’d said at the campfire, what seemed like a lifetime ago - ‘hypnotize you and bring out a real man like Thor Bonecrusher.’ “Please don’t throw my dumb words back in my face,” he said. “I’m not healthy enough to yell at you.”

“If I’d been Thor--”

“If you’d been Thor,” Snotlout had to stop and pant, “you… wouldn’t have cared…”

“Hey. It’s okay. Rest. Easy. Easy.”

Fishlegs rocking him and caring for him was making it hard to concentrate, but he had to get this said. “I don’t love Thor. I love you. Because you're the better man."

Fishlegs' sharp intake of breath told Snotlout he understood. "I let you get hurt..."

“There's always a risk we'll get hurt on missions. But you know the difference? You _cared,_ Fishlegs. Thor only loved himself.” Snotlout crinkled his eyes in a smile; his mouth was hurting too much now, and he was just too tired. “You… love all the dragons, and…”

“Shh, shh…” Fishlegs kissed his forehead.

“All the hatchlings, and…” Snotlout felt floaty, overcome by a rush of happiness and peace. “All the humans, and…”

Another soft kiss. “Try to sleep? Please? You need to rest.”

“...all the eggs, and all the fledglings, and…”

A chuckle. “Okay, you keep going till you fall asleep. I’ll be right here.”

“All your teammates, and all the… Dragon Scouts, and… the little… bitty… kiddies, and...”

Gentle arms cradled Snotlout as he drifted happily. He was warm, and safe, and he could just babble and talk about nothing and everything with his big dumb lovable dork.

And Snotlout would so call him dumb, too. Dumb and stoopid and a geek. Just as soon as he let Fishlegs know he meant everything to him and that he was never, ever letting him go.


End file.
